


At The End Of The Darkness

by AShortWalkToDelinquency



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Abduction, Aftermath of Torture, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Guys Made Them Do It, Dark, Eventual Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Miscommunication, Mpreg, Object Insertion, Panic Attacks, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:56:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 58,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26498986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AShortWalkToDelinquency/pseuds/AShortWalkToDelinquency
Summary: "Well, I suppose we ought to get started, hmm?" Matthew says, the excitement in his eyes taking on a predatory gleam. "I really think you're going to hurt so pretty. I can't wait." Matthew flashes him a smile that's all teeth and no mirth before he walks past Malcolm back to the table behind him.Malcolm takes a moment to arrange his thoughts, factoring the new information he's learned into the profile he'd already built and coming to one very distinct conclusion.He's fucked.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, JT Tarmel & Tally Tarmel, Malcolm Bright & JT Tarmel, Malcolm Bright & Tally Tarmel, Malcolm Bright/JT Tarmel
Comments: 83
Kudos: 85





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was supposed to be my entry into the mpreg swap a couple months back, but it got rather long and considerably darker than the prompt called for, so I decided to leave it and come back to it later. And now, here we are!
> 
> Please heed the tags. There are fairly detailed descriptions of both rape and torture in this one, and is quite a bit darker than my usual fare. Rest assured, this will have a happy ending, it's just a bumpy road to get there ❤
> 
> Thanks as always to KateSamantha for cleaning up my mistakes and for encouraging me when I thought this was garbage.

THEN

The call comes shortly after 9:00 pm, while the team is gathered around the conference table, ripping through the piles of evidence in their rush to beat the deadline their killer set. In just under an hour, he's going to kill the sisters he's abducted — a 14 year old Alpha and a 16 year old Beta, both girls described as smart, kind, and athletic, worshipped by family and peers alike — unless they can follow his clues to rescue the girls.

Malcolm has no doubt their killer will do as promised if they don't meet the 10:00 deadline. He's dropped five bodies in the span of eight days and has been taunting the police every step of the way, flaunting his kills and mocking their lack of progress in identifying him. 

As much as Malcolm hates to admit it, this killer is getting under his skin.

Malcolm is certain that he's an Alpha and a sadist — the sheer level of vicious brutality he employs to kill his victims makes that abundantly clear — but there's been something chewing at the edges of his mind, some part of the profile that's not sitting quite right. The method of murder has been different for each victim. The only commonality between them has been that all of them were killed in excruciatingly painful ways. Slowly, if Edrisa's autopsies are to be believed.

They likely wouldn't have even been tied to the same killer if it weren't for the fact that every single one of them had the same message carved into their skin.

_are we having fun yet?_

According to Edrisa, the messages were all carved antemortem, and considering how neat the lettering is, the victims must've been tightly restrained to keep from squirming away from the scalpel as it sliced through skin and muscle alike. The messages were carved on different parts of each victim's body, but were practically identical otherwise, almost as if the killer had used a stencil. Bright suspects it's to eliminate the chance of handwriting analysis from any freehand carving, but at this point he's honestly not sure about anything. The killer is presenting so many conflicting traits that it's completely derailing every profile he assembles, and he's starting to question how much of an asset he really is to the team. 

When an officer rushes into the room, claiming to have the killer on the line, Malcolm's eyebrows knit together in confusion. Though the killer had been sending in letters, both by email and post, he'd yet to actually phone in, and Malcolm certainly wasn't expecting contact this close to the deadline. He assumed that the killer would be spending time with the girls, counting down the minutes to the NYPD's inevitable failure and the girls' subsequent deaths.

Instead, as they all gather around the phone in the middle of the conference table — Dani and Malcolm sitting on opposite sides of the phone, JT standing next to Dani as he leans on the table and glares at the speaker, and Gil at the head of the table, fierce and fed up with the games — they're met with the distorted voice of someone who claims to be the killer. Who claims to know where the girls are.

"How do we know you're who you say you are?" Gil asks. The number of hoax calls the police receive in an investigation like this is staggering, and Malcolm knows he needs to ask for some kind of proof before they waste the last of their dwindling time on a lead that could be someone's idea of a prank.

"A question from you earns a question from me, Lieutenant," the modulated voice echoes through the speaker, followed by a brief pause that has Malcolm holding his breath as he waits. "Are we having fun yet?"

That particular detail of the murders had been withheld from the press, which means the caller is either the killer, or someone with inside information. For Gil, it's enough to warrant their full attention.

"What do you want? Are the girls safe?" Gil asks, uncrossing his arms and planting his palms on the table, leaning in to the phone as he focuses his full attention on every word, every sound coming through the speaker, knowing that the smallest clue might just turn out to be what cracks the case wide open.

"What are you offering?" The voice laughs, the noise sounding monstrous through the voice distorter. 

It's disturbing. Not only because of the way it sounds less than human as the sound screeches and cuts through the room, but because the killer is treating the entire situation like a game. The girls' lives mean nothing to him, Malcolm knows, and he won't hesitate to kill them both when the deadline hits.

"They're alive. For another…" the killer's voice carries on the word, as if he's looking at his watch and doing some quick math, "Oh, 43 minutes or so. Have you worked out the clues I sent?"

All eyes fall to the printouts of the latest email from the killer received at 10am on the dot, some sort of coded message that supposedly contains the whereabouts of the girls along with simple instructions stating that they have until 10pm to solve the puzzle and save the girls. The communication was forwarded to higher levels, codebreakers working to decipher the message, but so far, they've had no luck.

"Not yet," Malcolm speaks up, looking to Gil to make sure it's okay for him to continue. And Gil's terse nod, Malcolm says, "Would you be willing to give us another clue?" Hoping that asking for help, appearing weak, will make the killer feel so far above the NYPD that he gives them something more to work with.

"I suppose I may have to dumb things down a little for the next round, hmm?" The killer says, sounding almost like he's speaking more to himself than to them. "It's no fun playing when you're leagues above your opponents."

"So help us out," Malcolm says calmly, ignoring the panicked look Dani shoots him at the mention of a 'next round', focusing instead on talking the killer into helping them now. "Level the playing field a little to make it more of a challenge for yourself."

There's a long pause, minutes passing by without a sound from either side of the phone line as the killer, presumably, considers Malcolm's request. With every second, the tension grows in the room, knowing that they're losing valuable time in the search for the girls. Abby and Meghan have exactly 36 minutes to live, unless they can talk their abductor into helping them find them.

"I suppose we could make things a little more interesting," the voice finally agrees, and even through the distortion, Malcolm can pick up an edge of excitement in how quickly the words are spoken, like he can barely contain himself. "We'll call this the speed round. If you rescue the girls in time, I'll wait two days before I start the next round."

Malcolm doesn't want to ask. Doesn't want to encourage the man. But he needs to know the rules of the game they're playing. "And if we don't find Abby and Meghan in time?" He uses their names, hoping to humanize them in the killer's eyes, though he has little hope of its success.

"Then you'll have two dead girls on your hands and the next round begins at 10:01. Ooh, isn't this exciting? I'm liking the new twist to the game." The voice sounds genuinely excited, which makes the little hairs on the back of Malcolm's neck stand on end.

"This isn't a game," Gil cuts in, anger getting the best of him as he balls his hands into fists and leans in even further.

"You only say that because you're losing," is the reply, and Malcolm can't help but notice the look of disgust on JT's face, knowing that the lives of the victims truly mean nothing to this man. "But the consultant has the right idea. Up the stakes, up the fun. 4346 Rosewood Lane, 695 Taylor Street."

Dani is typing the addresses into her phone immediately, JT looking over her shoulder as she brings the addresses up on a map and lays the phone flat on the table so they can all see. The addresses are about a half hours drive from the precinct, in opposite directions. It sets off all kinds of alarm bells in the back of Malcolm's mind, but the mechanized voice cuts through the building worries.

"So. Are we having fun yet? I know I am. Better hurry. Time's a ticking." The line disconnects with a click.

Dani pushes to her feet and grabs her jacket from the back of the chair as JT and Gil make for the door, but Malcolm is replaying the conversation in his head, knowing that something isn't right.

"Bright?" Gil asks, paused at the door when he sees Malcolm hasn't moved.

"Something's wrong," Malcolm says.

"Yeah, that psycho is gonna kill two innocent girls if we don't get a move on," JT says impatiently.

"It feels like a trap," Malcolm says, ignoring the way JT's eyes feel on his skin, leaving him suddenly a few degrees warmer. "Two locations, in opposite directions, equidistant from the precinct and taking almost the exact amount of time to drive there as what's left in our deadline? That wasn't a spur of the moment decision, like he tried to make us believe. This was his plan all along."

"You think he wants to lure us out?" Gil asks.

"Does it matter?" JT responds before Malcolm has a chance to. "If there's even the possibility that we can save the girls, we have to go,"

He's not wrong, and they all know it. Malcolm pushes to his feet with a nod and joins the others as they make their way from the room.

"JT, Bright, take the address on Taylor Street," Gil says as they head to the front door, the three detectives all ensuring that their guns are secured as they walk, "Powell and I will take Rosewood Lane. We'll have ESU meet us at both locations and go in with full back up. We need to move fast, but I don't want anyone taking any unnecessary risks." Gil looks each of them in the eye, making sure they understand. "We'll assume both locations are compromised and act accordingly."

They hurry down the stairs in front of the precinct, JT and Bright heading left while Gil and Dani turn right, heading to their respective cars. Malcolm only turns back as he hears Gil call out, "Be careful. And stay in contact."

He nods his agreement and turns back to JT, whose eyes are weighing down on him with an intensity he doesn't quite understand. It only lasts a second, but it's enough to kick Malcolm's heart into overdrive and send a blazing flush to his cheeks. He's inordinately thankful that JT turns away to slip into the driver's side of the car, leaving Malcolm alone on the street, taking a fortifying breath before pulling open the passenger door and dropping into the car. There are far more important things to focus on than his (very unrequited) feelings for the reserved detective.

They're about ten minutes out from the location, speeding through a mostly industrial area, relatively abandoned due to the lateness of the hour, allowing JT to pick up the speed in hopes they can make it there on time, when Malcolm finally realizes what was bothering him about their conversation with the killer.

"Oh my God," Malcolm says, turning wide eyed to the detective, "He knows who we are. JT, this isn't about the victims at all." He curses himself for taking so long to put the pieces together, reaching into his pocket as he fills in JT, who is casting him worried glances as he speeds through the nearly empty streets. He needs to call Gil, let him know what they're walking into. "The killer referred to Gil as 'Lieutenant' and called me 'the consultant'. Jesus, this was about the team the whole time."

The car comes out of nowhere, smashing into the passenger side of JT's vehicle at the rear door. JT slams on the breaks, but it's too late. The force of the collision has the car teetering on two wheels for the longest second of Malcolm's life before it flips over, windows smashing as the driver's side impacts the ground. The momentum pushes it further, rolling onto the roof as it scrapes across the asphalt until it finally skids to a stop near the curb. The screech of metal and crash of broken glass suddenly give way to the near silence that follows, reverberating in Malcolm's ears after the harsh sounds of the collision. The steady hiss of the engine is the only sound in the street until footsteps begin to crunch through the broken glass littering the deserted road, getting progressively louder as they approach the car.

"Help," Malcolm calls out weakly, hanging upside down in the passenger seat, kept from falling to the crushed roof of the car by the seat belt that's pinning him in place, digging into his abdomen and across his chest. It's hard to breathe, let alone call out, but he tries again as he looks over to JT, who's slumped on the roof of the car, legs pinned between the seat and steering wheel, out cold and bleeding from a nasty gash above his left eyebrow. "Call an ambulance. My partner needs medical attention." 

The words are lost in a cough as the seatbelt compresses his chest and forces the air from his lungs. But he hears the footsteps move from JT's side of the car over to his, and soon sees a pair of black dress shoes outside his shattered window. Within seconds, the person kneels down in the sea of broken glass and bends over to look into the car, an overwhelming scent of sawdust and camphor flooding into the space and choking Malcolm before he even sees his would-be rescuer. When the man — an Alpha in his late 30s — leans in through the warped door frame, scent acrid with a vulgar and bloodthirsty excitement, Malcolm flinches away in fear as he says, "Don't worry Malcolm, I'll have you out of here in no time."

And suddenly Malcolm understands that this wasn't an accident at all. He realizes now that they were never meant to make it to the location they were headed to, that the killer was waiting on the most secluded stretch of the journey from the precinct to the address he'd provided. Waiting for them. He opens his mouth to scream for help, praying that there's anyone else nearby, but his nose and mouth are quickly covered with a damp cloth, the blended notes of chloroform — a bouquet of sweet and chemical aromas that tickle at the back of his throat — pervading his senses, sending a surge of adrenaline streaming through his veins as he's instantly transported to memories of his childhood. Of The Surgeon. 

He screams and thrashes out, tears welling in his eyes as he fights against the strong hand that's holding the cloth to his face, but it's futile, trapped and disoriented as he is. He spares a thought for JT, praying that the man is alive, that their killer ignores him and focuses on getting Malcolm away from the scene before the police show up. The last thing he hears before his world fades to black and his thoughts abandon him entirely is a quiet chuckle and the rumble in the man's chest as he asks, "Are we having fun yet?"

\---

NOW

Malcolm knocks on the door frame of Gil's office, his door already open to the rest of the precinct. Gil's hunched over a folder of loose papers, flipping through with a resigned look on his face, signing in various spots as he goes. Malcolm feels for the man, knowing just how much he hates the additional paperwork that comes along with being Lieutenant.

When Gil looks up, it's with a smile and an expression of relief that says he's thankful for the interruption. Malcolm's heart sinks knowing that he's about to drop a bomb on the man that he has no idea is coming. 

"Hey, kid," Gil says, dropping the pen and leaning back in his chair, clasping his hands over his stomach, "I wasn't expecting you in for another week. You know we don't have anything on that needs a profiler right now, right?"

He hasn't been in since The Incident, agreeing, for once, with Gabrielle when she recommended taking a few months off to process everything that happened and begin to heal. Usually that much downtime would have him climbing the walls, but, for a change, he'd actually been thankful for the break. It gave him the time he needed to work through everything that was happening and to decide how to move forward. 

How to move on.

"Do you have a minute?" Malcolm asks, still hovering at the door, anxious to get the whole thing over with, but terrified to start.

"For you? Make it two," Gil laughs, waving Malcolm in.

He steps into the office and closes the door behind him, taking the few seconds while his back is turned to suck in a fortifying breath. When he turns back around, Gil's easy smile has faded, replaced with a concern that pinches at the corner of his lips and eyes. His easy and relaxed posture disappears in an instant when he sees Malcolm's face, pulling himself up straight in his chair.

"What's wrong?" Gil asks.

Malcolm walks over, standing behind the chairs in front of Gil's desk, too wound up to actually take a seat. He wraps his hands over the back and grips tight, bracing himself for what's to come.

"Nothing's wrong, per se," Malcolm says honestly, trying to remember that just because things are about to change, doesn't mean that it's necessarily for the worse. "But I do need to tell you something."

Gil leans forward, forearms propped on his desk as he gives Malcolm his full attention. While he knows he's not saying goodbye forever — Gil is too intrinsic a part of his life for that — Malcolm is going to miss working with him. Going to miss seeing him as often as he has since he came back to New York nearly three years ago.

"Um," Malcolm begins, straightening up and pulling an envelope from his pocket, leaning forward to toss it in front of Gil. "I know as a consultant I don't technically need to give notice, but I wanted to let you know that I'm officially resigning, effective immediately."

It feels like all of the air has been sucked from the room. 

There's a moment of absolute stillness, where the only sound Malcolm can hear is the hammering of his heart as it echoes in his ears. It's not long, though, before Gil's face falls and he whispers, "Why?"

Malcolm's spent the better part of a week trying to decide exactly what to tell Gil. He doesn't want to put him in an untenable situation at work, but he also knows he can't hide the truth forever. After so much mental back-and-forth it left him dizzy, he decided that a half truth was the best way to go, and so he breaks out the line that he'd practiced in the mirror at least a dozen times that morning.

"I think it would be best for me to get out of New York for a while. After everything that…" He cuts himself off, cursing himself for falling off script. He can't go there. Not now. "To get away from murderers and cases and everything that goes with them."

Gil's been trying to convince him to do just that since before he even applied to Quantico, so he knows the man isn't going to try to talk him out of it. But he's not prepared for the crestfallen look on Gil's face as he takes in Malcolm's explanation. 

"It won't be for good," he hastens to add, trying to take the sting from the sudden pronouncement, but he can tell by the way Gil is trying so hard to school his face into something neutral that he's taking it at least a little personally. "Just. For a while. Just to get my head on straight."

Gil scrubs a hand over his goatee and Malcolm can see the acceptance settle over him, like he knew it would. "You sure about this? Have you really thought it through? Where are you going to go? What are you going to do?"

The questions aren't meant to dissuade him, Malcolm knows. Gil genuinely wants to make sure this is what he wants and that he's really considered what it means to leave. As always, Gil is putting Malcolm's needs ahead of his own, and Malcolm feels awful for what he's doing. Unfortunately, he can't come up with an alternative course of action that doesn't destroy a happy family.

"I'm sure," he says quietly, afraid that if he speaks any louder the tremor in his voice will give him away. "There's a Milton family home on Hilton Head Island that I'm going to move into for a little while. Mother is already having the rooms prepared."

"When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow."

He feels crushed under the weight of the silence, and considers coming clean, telling Gil everything and taking the comfort that he knows the man would provide. Gil's been more of a father to Malcolm the last twenty-some years than Martin Whitly ever was, and he _knows_ that Gil would support him if he knew the truth. But he can't put him in the position of having to lie for him. It would be selfish and unfair, and after everything Gil's done for him, Malcolm can't bear to do that to him.

Muscles tense with anticipation, Malcolm jerks when Gil suddenly pushes his chair back and gets to his feet, tugging his sweater down as he walks around the desk and stops beside Malcolm. He doesn't even have time to question what he's doing before he's wrapped up in Gil's arms, feeling like a little boy again, taking comfort in his strength and love, the warm scents of leather and sandalwood washing over him like a waterfall.

"I'm gonna miss you, city boy," Gil says, voice thick with emotion. "But don't think you're getting away that easily. I'll be coming out to visit you just like I did when you joined Quantico."

Malcolm didn't doubt that for a minute. But he's hoping he can put him off for a while. At least a year if he can help it.

"Do you need anything?" Gil asks, pulling back but keeping his hands on Malcolm's shoulders. "Need help packing? Moving?"

And of course Gil would offer to put everything on hold to help Malcolm out. He's been doing it since the day he saved Malcolm from The Surgeon's blood-stained hands, taking care of Malcolm's needs, placing Malcolm's comfort and security far above his own.

"I'm good. Thank you, though," Malcolm says, forcing himself to look him in the eye, to say goodbye properly, not just slink away. "The movers are coming tomorrow to pack everything up, so I'm just taking a suitcase and Sunshine with me on the flight."

Gil sighs and asks one last time, "You're sure about this?"

"I am."

"Have you said goodbye to the team yet?"

"No, not yet," Malcolm answers, carefully sidestepping his intentions by saying, "I was thinking of stopping by before I go to the airport tomorrow. I don't want to make it a big deal." At least that part is true, he thinks to himself. He plans on stopping by Dani's place in the morning, before she leaves for work, to thank her for everything and wish her all the best. He intends to send a text to JT from the airport. In South Carolina. The thought of facing the man, of saying goodbye — maybe forever — is more than he can handle.

He harbours no illusions of being able to repair their friendship when everything comes out. JT is going to be furious with him; rightfully so. There's no forgiveness for this, but he'll do it anyways, because he cares far too much about JT to tear his life apart. Cares too much about Tally and Aaliyah to destroy their family.

"Anyways, you probably need to get back to work," Malcolm says, looking to the stacks of paperwork on Gil's desk, knowing he has a long day of reports and requisitions ahead of him.

"Can I take you out to dinner as a send off?" Gil asks, dropping his hands from Malcolm's shoulders and sliding them into the pockets of his slacks.

Malcolm would love to say yes, to spend one last evening with his surrogate father, but he knows that the longer he spends with Gil, the more likely he is to cave and tell him everything. "I actually have to put quite a few affairs in order before I leave tomorrow," he says, which is not entirely untrue. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, kid, I understand," Gil smiles sadly, "Let me know once you're settled in and I'll book a few days off to come out and see you."

They say their goodbyes and Malcolm does his best to keep a smile on his face as they part, cherishing Gil's good wishes and the final warm hug that the man bestows, before he leaves Gil in his office and makes his way out of the precinct for possibly the last time. By the time he hits the doors, everything has taken on the indistinct blur of the tears welling in his eyes. Despite how things are ending, the past few years have been the best of his life, and he doesn't think he'll ever be ready to say goodbye.

He's so busy blinking back the tears that he doesn't even notice the heavy gaze that lands on him as he weaves his way through the desks to the exit.

\---

THEN

He feels like he's burning alive. Feels the sweat pooling on his skin and dripping from his body before he's aware of anything else, like the pounding in his head and the way his stomach is twisting and and convulsing and —

He jerks his head to the side as he vomits, but it only serves to make the dizziness even worse, the world swaying and spinning around him. When he finally stops heaving, he lets out a pitiful moan and tries to bring a hand to his head, only to find that he can't move his arms.

Or his legs.

It takes several minutes before he can crack his eyelids to see where he is, but the hammering in his head spikes as the light attacks his retinas, and he can hardly make sense of his surroundings. He snaps his eyes shut and breathes through the pain, waiting for the aches to abate. Mercifully, his stomach and head settle quite quickly and, so long as he doesn't make any sudden movements, he's able to take stock of himself and the room.

He's sore. His chest and abdomen ache from where the seatbelt dug into him and he's sure he's going to have some severe bruising come morning. The pain in his head, along with the nausea, can likely be explained by the chloroform, but until he's able to move more freely, he can't rule out the possibility of a concussion. Various other aches and pains can be attributed to the car crash and are easy enough for him to ignore while he figures out where he is.

The room appears to be a basement or cellar of some sort, with no windows that he can see from where he's sitting, at least without trying to move his head more than he's comfortable with just yet. It's well lit, though, with bright strip lights littering the ceiling, illuminating the room in a brilliant white glow, harsh and clinical, that pierces Malcolm's eyes and pounds into his brain.

Lowering his eyes from the glare, he sees the metal frame of a cot about ten feet in front of him, bolted to the floor. With the mattress missing, only a grid work of metal is left spanning the length of the bed. From the looks of the rust on the screws, it's been bolted there for a while. Looking down, he sees he's tied to a metal chair, his wrists and the area at the crease of his elbow tightly restrained to the arms, and ankles tied to the thick metal legs. He tests the give of his bindings, but the rope is pulled tight enough that it chafes at his wrists where the sleeves of his shirt are rucked up ever so slightly. He'd be willing to bet the chair has been securely fastened to the floor as well.

He feels more like himself with every minute that passes, the side-effects of the chloroform dissipating as he breathes deeply, sucking in lungfuls of cool air to clear his head. As his pain and fog finally lift, he suddenly remembers JT, sprawled out unconscious on the roof of the car, helpless and at the mercy of a sadistic killer. Panic floods his system, stealing his breath away and sending his heart into a skyrocketing tempo in his chest, as an all-consuming terror takes hold. He twists in his chair, as much as his restraints will allow, terrified of what he may — or may not — find. 

To his right and slightly behind where he's sitting, JT is slumped on the floor, wrists chained to one of the many industrial eye bolts that are jutting out from the concrete wall behind him. Malcolm's heart stutters to a halt when he sees JT, his mind jumping to the worst case scenario before he has a chance to remind himself that the killer wouldn't have chained JT up if he was already dead.

"JT?" Malcolm calls out, trying to keep his voice down so he doesn't alert their captor, trying to keep the panic from possessing his voice completely. "JT, wake up."

"Oh, he'll be out for a couple more hours." The voice behind Malcolm startles him so badly that his body jerks in his chair, the rough grain of the rope scraping over his skin. He twists at the waist and cranes his head over his shoulder as he tries to look behind him. "Don't worry, though, Malcolm. We can get started without him."

As the man speaks, he pushes himself off of the table he'd been perched about a dozen feet behind Malcolm. He walks slowly towards Malcolm, hands resting casually in the pockets of his slacks, shiny wingtip shoes tapping on the cement floor with every step. His scent has mellowed from the site of the accident, the violent feverishness having faded, now that he's caught his prey. He smells twisted somehow, though, a battle of aromas that fight each other for dominance and the scent makes Malcolm's stomach twist.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Malcolm tries to keep a calm facade, but his own pheromones must betray his fear as the man leans in and sniffs the air around him as he walks, a cruel smile tugging at his lips as he does a quick turn on his heel and faces Malcolm.

He looks every inch the relaxed businessman. His suit is clearly tailored for him, sitting perfectly on his 6'2 frame, and even through the layers of the three piece suit, Malcolm can see that he's well built. With not a hair out of place on his head, he looks like he's just stepped off Wall Street and should be out celebrating his latest victory with his colleagues. 

"How rude of me," the man says, pulling a hand from his pocket and placing it over his heart apologetically, "I feel like I already know you so well that I forgot we haven't been formally introduced. I'm Matthew. I'll be your killer tonight."

Matthew chuckles and just shrugs when Malcolm only glares at him, clearly not entertained.

"Where are Abby and Meghan?" Malcolm asks, dread curling in his gut

"The sisters? They're at the other address I gave you. See, I knew the team would separate to look for the girls," Matthew says, the twinkle in his eye giving away just how excited he is. "I was waiting with baited breath to see which two I got, running through all the combinations in my head, planning what I could do to each of you. Oh, the anticipation was delicious."

Malcolm ignores the way Matthew looks like a kid with a new toy to smash, asking instead, "Are they alive?"

"Detective Dani Powell and Lieutenant Gil Arroyo? Oh yes, they're very much going to be a part of this game," Matthew says, quickly adding, "I'll be honest, I'm very excited to have gotten you. The only Omega of the group. I knew that, no matter who you were with, your pain would hurt your partner, so imagine my delight when I walked over to that car and found _you_ hanging from that seat!"

Malcolm's mouth goes dry as he envisions exactly what Matthew is likely to do to them, based on what he's done to his past victims. "Wh—" he clears his throat and tries again, "What about Abby and Meghan? Are they alive?"

Matthew looks like he couldn't care less about this topic of conversation, like Malcolm is distracting him with unimportant details when there's something far more fascinating right in front of him. "Oh, them. I suppose that depends on how quickly Gil and Dani drove. It doesn't matter, though, because everything I've done so far has been to get to this point! To get you here!"

Matthew is so excited that he's bouncing on the balls of his feet, clearly quite pleased with himself. As Malcolm watches the glee play over the Alpha's face, he suddenly realizes that the varying MOs were all meant to capture the attention of Major Crimes. All of those people died to make sure that Gil and his team would be handed the case, knowing that the Commissioner would insist the team with the highest solve rate was tasked with catching the killer that was terrorizing the city. This was about _them_ from the very beginning.

"Well, I suppose we ought to get started, hmm?" Matthew says, the excitement in his eyes taking on a predatory gleam. "I really think you're going to hurt so pretty. I can't wait." Matthew flashes him a smile that's all teeth and no mirth before he walks past Malcolm back to the table behind him.

Malcolm takes a moment to arrange his thoughts, factoring the new information he's learned into the profile he'd already built and coming to one very distinct conclusion. 

He's fucked.

Matthew is most certainly a sadist and Malcolm has doubt that he enjoyed every minute of killing all of his victims, but the fact that he did everything for the express purpose of luring the team in means that he has an end game in mind and will be nearly impossible to negotiate with. And Malcolm doesn't doubt for a moment that it's going to be worse than anything he did to any of the prior victims.

"Do you fish, Malcolm?" Matthew asks conversationally, standing at the table with his back to Malcolm so that, even when he twists in the chair as much as he can with his forearms still firmly attached to the armrests, he's unable to see exactly what Matthew is doing. "I got my hands on some police records from a couple years ago, and it mentioned your father took you camping when you were a boy. Did he teach you how to fish?"

Malcolm's head swims at the mention of the camping trip with his father, unwanted memories flooding his mind even as he tries to work out how the hell Matthew got his hands on the police records of his abduction by John Watkins. He knows that's the only time his camping trip with Dr. Whitly became a matter of record, when Dani and JT had to share the information with Agent Swanson in order to search for him at the Watkins family cabin. 

It raises two very important questions. If Matthew has that file, what other information has he gained access to? And how long has he been watching the team? It's been over two years since John Watkins held him captive and tried to break him down. Has Matthew been watching and waiting all that time?

"There are few things more important than father-son bonding time, don't you think?" Matthew asks as he wanders back towards Malcolm, a current of excitement visible beneath his forced calm. "My father took me hunting and fishing as a boy, taught me what it meant to 'be a man'. I'll be honest, he and I have vastly different ideas of what that means, but I did learn some helpful tips and tricks from those trips."

As Matthew rounds the chair, Malcolm sees he's holding something metal in the shape of a 'T' in his hand. A small cylinder of some sort is tucked into the palm of his hand, leaving a thin spike of about four inches to jut out from between his pointer and middle finger.

"It's an Iki spike," Matthew says, following Malcolm's gaze down to the instrument as he comes to a stop in front of him. "It's used to quickly and humanely kill fish once they're caught. You jab it just behind the eye of the fish, directly into the brain. Causes instant brain death."

Matthew doesn't telegraph his intentions at all, so Malcolm doesn't see it coming. In the blink of an eye, the spike rips through skin and muscle as it's buried in the meaty flesh of his thigh. An agonized scream rips from his throat as the pain flares through his body, radiating through every nerve as it shoots from the wound down to his foot and up through his spine. Matthew hovers over him, bent at the waist, leaning in to watch as the pain contorts his features, a smile splitting his face as Malcolm's shout turns to broken cry.

"It's good for this, too." Matthew says, breathy and visibly excited, and Malcolm can't help but notice the way the man's pupils dilate as he rocks the spike ever so slightly while it's still embedded securely in his muscles. "Oh, god. This is going to be even better than I expected. You're so fucking expressive, Malcolm."

Malcolm flinches as Matthew's scent shifts to undeniably aroused, cowering as the Alpha's pheromones weigh down on him, seeping into his skin. The whimper that escapes Malcolm's lips is entirely unintentional, but it's clear how much Matthew enjoys it, and it frightens him as to what's to come. But Matthew surprises him once again, ignoring his arousal and jerking the spike from his leg only to ram it back down about two inches lower.

"Yes! Scream for me, Malcolm!"

He does.


	2. Chapter 2

NOW

Sitting on the stairs leading to the upper level of his apartment, staring at the suitcase and carry-on he's packed and stowed by the door, the magnitude of what he's about to do hits him like a freight train. He's going to leave behind everything he knows and loves. Everything that's meant _anything_ to him in the last two decades. And he's going to be alone for the most terrifying chapter of his entire life.

As Sunshine chirps merrily in her cage beside him, it's suddenly just too damn much. There's a tightness in his chest that's making it hard to breathe and he doubles over, resting his head against his knees as he tries to calm his racing heart and slow his breathing. He recognizes that he's falling head first into a panic attack but can't seem to talk himself down, the breathing and focus exercises that Gabrielle provided him with all those years ago feeling like nothing more than useless advice from someone who doesn't truly understand.

He nearly jumps out of his skin as the front door buzzer echoes through his apartment. Adolpho. Malcolm had been sitting there so long that he didn't realize how much time must have passed. He pushes to his feet and buzzes him up, hoping he can compose himself at least a little before the man makes it up to help him with his luggage and Sunshine's cage. He paces back and forth from the door to the bathroom as he waits, but with each pass of the suitcases his breathing picks up just a little bit more, until he realizes that his apartment is beginning to fade into hazy shades of swirling grey.

He drops himself onto the step up to his bedroom, letting his head fall between his knees as he fists his fingers in his hair and tugs, _hard_ , trying to ground himself, to pull him out of the rising panic that's threatening to consume him entirely. 

It doesn't help.

When he hears footsteps just outside his door, he realizes that, next to Gil, Adolpho is probably the person who has seen Malcolm like this the most. The family driver has been with them for nearly 15 years, and has picked Malcolm up from all over the city when things have gotten too hard for Malcolm to handle, leaving him in the middle of a breakdown. Ever professional, he always gives Malcolm his space, never comments on his weakness. If someone has to see him like this, he's thankful that it's Adolpho.

He's trying to suck in enough breath to tell Adolpho to please take the bags down, to let him know he'll just need a few minutes, when an unexpected voice breaks into his anxiety-fueled breakdown.

"Bright?" 

Malcolm's head shoots up at the sound of JT's voice, shock and fear warring for center stage as he tries to push to his feet, but drops back down almost immediately, the room swimming around him at the sudden movement.

"What—?" Malcolm doesn't have enough air or courage to manage anything more. He drops his head back down and prays that JT's presence is some sort of hypoxia-induced hallucination and nothing more. He's too raw to deal with JT — and all the baggage that comes with him — right now.

"Bright," JT says, closer this time than before, shattering Malcolm's illusions of hope. "Shit. Bro, what's wrong?"

He can hear the concern in JT's voice, but it only serves to make everything infinitely worse. A high pitched noise, somewhere between a wheeze and a whimper, escapes his lips as he tries to plead for JT to leave. 

"Hey man," JT says, barely louder than a whisper as he lowers himself next to Malcolm, "how can I help?"

It's not until JT sits beside him, so close that Malcolm can feel his body heat seeping into him through the barrier of their clothes, that Malcolm realizes just how cold he is. When JT wraps a strong arm around his shoulders — heartbreakingly tentative at first, and Malcolm is unsure if it's because he's making sure Malcolm doesn't object or he just doesn't want to touch him — and tugs him into his broad chest, enveloping him in a warmth that Malcolm didn't even know he was desperate for, he can't stop himself from leaning into the embrace.

There's nothing he can do to stop the tears, but the crushing weight around his chest starts to lessen as JT holds him, and it's not long before he can finally suck in a stuttering breath to fill his lungs. After the first, the second comes a little easier, and the third easier still. He knows he should pull back, that every second spent in JT's arms is only going to make what's coming next that much worse, but he just _can't_.

They sit silently, huddled together on the floor, until the shaking in Malcolm's body finally subsides and the tears dry up, leaving him tired and hollow in a way that shouldn't even be possible. When JT squeezes him a little tighter, Malcolm knows that the quiet comfort is coming to an end, and he prepares himself to say goodbye.

"Bright," JT says, voice thick with emotion, "I am so, so sorry."

Malcolm reluctantly pulls back, hating himself for immediately missing the warmth of JT's arms around him, and looks up at the detective. He's stunned to find tear tracks staining his cheeks and a look of absolute dejection contorting JT's features as he looks down at Malcolm. 

"Gil told me you're leaving," JT swallows hard around the emotions that he's clearly losing the battle to. "I'm guessing I'm the reason why." JT's eyes sweep over Malcolm's face, searching for microexpressions to reveal the truth, just like Malcolm taught him to do.

Malcolm looks away, afraid that JT will work out his secret if he doesn't, but JT clearly takes the avoidance as confirmation that his theory is correct.

"Fuck," he breathes out, scrubbing a hand over his face. He pushes himself to his feet so quickly that Malcolm startles at the movement, but JT is spinning around to face him before he even has a chance to get his heart rate back under control. In the nearly three years that he's known the man, Malcolm had never seen him look so resolute as he does now.

"No," JT says firmly. "This isn't happening." 

"JT—"

"No," JT interrupts, nodding to himself as he reaches some sort of conclusion that makes Malcolm's skin prickle to witness. "I'll transfer. You can stay. Keep working with Gil and Powell. I'll stay out of your life Bright, I promise."

JT looks at him so intently that Malcolm feels like a butterfly, pinned and examined, unable to move under the weight of gaze. The fact that JT would be willing to torch his career with Major Crimes so that Malcolm could stay and work makes his heart ache and he has to bite down on his bottom lip to stop the quiver that's betraying just how much that means to him.

JT's face contorts at Malcolm's continued silence and he slowly moves in front of Malcolm and drops down to one knee, looking devastated as he says, "I'll turn myself in, if that's what you need. I know you said you wanted to keep everything quiet, but if that's changed, I'll acknowledge everything that happened. Full confession. I'll face whatever charges might come up, no contest."

He means it. Malcolm can see the truth of the words shining clear as day in the man's eyes and feels his stomach churn at the thought. He bolts to the bathroom, nearly knocking JT over on his haste to get away, not even bothering to shut the door behind him as he drops to his knees and throws up the half piece of dry toast he'd managed to force down that morning. He waits a few minutes after the retching has stopped, head resting on his arm on the seat of the toilet, before he cautiously pushes to his feet, readying himself for another wave of nausea as he moves. When he finally straightens up, he's met with the sight of JT standing in the doorway with a damp cloth, a glass of water, and expression so broken that Malcolm nearly throws up again. He takes the cloth with a nod of thanks and scrubs it over his face and the back of his neck before dropping it beside the faucet.

Grabbing mouthwash from the medicine cabinet, he swishes it around his mouth and spits it into the sink, then takes the glass of water from JT, swishing and spitting a couple of mouthfuls of that as well, before taking a small sip and praying that he can keep it down.

JT stays blessedly silent throughout the ordeal, but Malcolm still takes comfort in his hovering presence, even if he refuses to admit it, even to himself. When he feels a little more centered, he slips past JT and makes his way to the living room, slumping onto the sofa with a defeated sigh and his arms wrapped tightly around himself. JT follows behind him and takes the chair, sitting as far from Malcolm as the living room will allow, and Malcolm spares a moment to think how nice it would be to feel his strong arms wrapped around him once again, knowing full well that it's never going to happen.

"Look man, I've been trying to give you some space, waiting until you're ready, but we're gonna need to talk about what happened at some point." JT's hands are balled into tight fists where he sits, steeling himself for the conversation ahead.

It's entirely possible that there's nothing Malcolm could want to do _less_ than have a conversation about what happened that day. It won't change anything. All it can possibly do is make things worse for them both. 

"There's nothing to discuss," Malcolm says wearily, knowing that it's not going to fly.

"Malcolm, I raped you," JT's voice breaks around the word and Malcolm can see the guilt bubbling to the surface, fetid and toxic, understanding suddenly that he's forced JT to live with this, alone, for the last three months. He'd been so wrapped up in himself that he didn't stop to consider how it must have affected JT.

Now that he's looking, _really_ looking, he sees just how broken the man is: dark smudges under his eyes with a haunted look that he can't seem to hide, a pallid hue to his skin that screams of sleepless nights, scruffy and unkempt in a way that the vestiges of his military background usually forbid. He's lost weight, too, leaving him with a gaunt and sickly cast to his otherwise handsome features.

The last three months have been the most difficult in Malcolm's life. 

It looks like it may have been just as bad for JT.

\----

THEN

Matthew spends a good portion of the next hour or two alternating between skewering Malcolm with the Iki spike at varying depths, pressing down on the wounds with his thumb, and asking him a mind blowing number of questions about the team. He's almost obsessive about it, wanting to know minute details about the team's dynamics, their backgrounds, the way they think. Malcolm refuses to answer anything that's not a matter of public record, but every answer he refuses to give leads to more and more pain.

None of the wounds Matthew inflicts are damaging enough to cause substantial blood loss. He's careful not to go anywhere near any arteries that could potentially kill Malcolm and put an end to his fun. It hurts like hell, though. 

Exactly like Matthew wants.

But eventually Matthew leaves, saying nothing about where he's going or how long he'll be gone, which somehow makes it worse as the anticipation of his return settles like lead in Malcolm's stomach. He sits with his eyes squeezed shut and head hung low, chin pressed to his chest as he tries to breathe through the pain.

He's so focused on controlling the pain that he doesn't hear JT's hushed movements as the detective comes to, the quiet rattle of the chains that are restraining him not enough to break through Malcolm's concentration. It's not until JT quietly calls out that he realizes he's awake.

"Fuck, Bright, are you okay?" The worry is so evident in JT's voice that Malcolm wants nothing more than to assure him that he's fine, even if it's not entirely true. He just hopes that JT can't see how bad it is from where he's sitting.

"I'm fine," Malcolm croaks out, voice hoarse from screaming. He looks over to JT, trying to flash a trademark smile and failing miserably if JT's reaction is any indication.

"What the hell happened?" JT pushes himself to his feet, holding his hands to the wound on his head as he goes and Malcolm can only guess at how much the sudden movement must hurt. He pushes himself away from the wall but there's only about four feet of chain attaching his cuffs to the eybolt and Malcolm is at least a dozen feet away.

"The good news," Malcolm huffs out between panting breaths, still trying to push through the pain, "is that we've found the killer."

"What the fuck did he do to you?" JT growls, anger rolling off him in waves and crashing into Malcolm, making him whimper at the overwhelming flood of fury. At the sound, JT reins himself in, sucking a deep breath in through his nose and muttering a quiet, "Sorry."

"It's fine," Malcolm says, dropping his head again as he gives up on the pretence of being okay.

"That's a lot of blood for 'fine', man," JT shoots back.

Shifting his head to look over the side of the chair, he sees that there are pools of blood littered on the ground below him. Not enough to be really worrisome in the grand scheme of things, he thinks, but Malcolm can understand JT's concern. He hums his acknowledgement and takes a few deep breaths before he explains to JT everything that's happened since the car crash, glossing over the part where Matthew repeatedly stabbed him with a fishing tool.

JT listens without interruption, without commenting on Malcolm's gravelly voice or the short little breaks he takes to catch his breath. He waits until Malcolm has told him everything he knows before he says, "You need to hang in there, man. You know Gil and Dani are already looking for us."

Malcolm knows that, and it terrifies him. "Matthew is going to want to get them, too," he says weakly. "Complete the set." He doesn't have the energy to explain what he means, but JT seems to understand regardless.

"The set? Like the sick fucker is collecting us?" JT asks, but Malcolm knows it's rhetorical and doesn't waste his breath confirming the statement. Matthew may be happy with having Malcolm and JT right now, but his obsession runs too deep and Malcolm knows that he'll make a move to get Dani and Gil, as well. "Fuck. We need to find a way to get out of here."

Malcolm can do little more than watch while JT jerks at the chain connecting him to the wall and tries yanking his hands free from the cuffs, succeeding only in slicing the skin around his wrists. Malcolm can tell that it's futile, the reinforced steel far too strong for JT to break free from, but he knows there's no point in expressing that to the detective. His protective instincts have been triggered and Malcolm knows he'll fight until he's bloody and raw to protect his team.

"Look who's awake." The voice has an instantaneous effect on Malcolm, throat tightening and making it hard to breathe as he curls into himself, his body preparing for the pain his mind already associates with the man standing in the doorway behind him.

The fear he's feeling must be especially potent as the two Alphas react immediately, Matthew groaning in pleasure while JT growls and throws himself toward the man only to be jerked back as the chain pulls taut, rattling loudly in the room.

"You fucker," JT snarls. "Afraid to face an Alpha? Why don't you come over here and we'll see if you're still such a big man."

Matthew just chuckles and Malcolm kicks himself for not warning JT to try to keep his reactions in check. Showing Matthew exactly how he feels does nothing but spur him on and guarantee that he's going to use it against them.

"Oh, this is going to be even more fun than I thought," Matthew grins, JT's anger feeding his innate need to cause pain. "Look at you all protective of the little Omega. Is there something going on between you? I didn't peg you for the unfaithful type, Detective Tarmel," Matthew saunters into the room, making his way to Malcolm's side and running a hand gently through his hair before gripping a fistful and jerking Malcolm's hair back. "There is something about him, though, isn't there?"

"Don't you fucking touch him," JT snarls, ignoring Malcolm's subtle attempts to get his attention, focused with a burning intensity on Matthew.

"Temper, temper, Detective," Matthew laughs, hand still curled tight in Malcolm's hair. "Or can I call you JT? I feel like we're about to get to know each other very well, we really should be on a first name basis. I'm Matthew, by the way. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"What do you want?" JT bites out through clenched teeth, and Malcolm is pleased to see that he's no longer straining against his cuffs, even if his body is still taut and ready to pounce.

Matthew doesn't answer, instead bringing his free hand to Malcolm's throat and squeezing. Hard. With his head held back and his arms restrained, Malcolm has no leverage, no way to move to break the hold. He's completely helpless and at Matthew's mercy as he tries to suck in a rasping breath around the hand that's crushing his trachea.

Matthew's eyes dart back and forth between Malcolm's struggling form — drinking up the terror in his eyes as his face turns red and his mouth gapes open — and JT's enraged fight against the chains, throwing himself bodily at towards the two men, shouting and cursing as he tries to break free. It's not until Malcolm's eyelids begin to flutter closed, his world fading to indistinct shades of grey, that Matthew finally lets go.

Malcolm heaves in great lungfuls of air, hacking and coughing as his aching lungs struggle to remember how to inhale and exhale, the throbbing of his throat only registering once his breathing has begun to even out. His eyes are watering, tears streaming down his face as the pain and fear chase one another through his body, leaving him shaking and terrified.

He can't bring himself to look at JT — feeling the rage and powerlessness rolling off of him is bad enough, he doesn't think he could stomach seeing it on his face — so he focuses on the wall ahead of him instead. But even with his eyes forward, he can't help but notice that Matthew is hard, tenting his suit pants obscenely just beside Malcolm's face. Two of the victims, the two women, had been sexually assaulted, and he tries very hard not to dwell on the possibility of what's to come.

No sense borrowing trouble, Gil always told him when he was growing up. He tries to focus on the trouble at hand, leaving the future to the future.

He's vaguely aware that the two Alphas are having a conversation above him — or rather, JT is shouting and Matthew is chuckling and goading him — but he's too lightheaded to even care. Between the various puncture wounds that are still sluggishly bleeding, and the unexpected strangulation, he's left reeling where he sits, barely able to keep his head up. He just wants to close his eyes for a few minutes. He knows he'll feel better after a quick nap.

Unfortunately, Matthew has other plans.

He feels the ropes loosening, first from below his elbows, then from his ankles. He kicks out weakly as his feet are freed, but the useless attempt at taking down his attacker is met with a harsh backhand that leaves him seeing stars and swallowing blood from a split lip.

"Malcolm, I need you to pay attention here, okay?" Matthew says, grabbing Malcolm's face in one strong hand and forcing him to look him in the eye. "I'm going to untie you, and you're going to do exactly what I say. If you try anything stupid, I'm going to take the Iki spike and jam it into JT's body so many times that he's more hole than skin, and then I'll shove it through his eye into his brain, just like a fish. Do you understand?"

It's not an idle threat. Even in his current state, Malcolm can tell as much. He nods his agreement and flinches as the ropes are removed from his wrists, pulling where they'd embedded in his skin.

As soon as his arms are free, Matthew moves to unbutton his shirt. He's halfway done before Malcolm really registers what's happening and his hands fly up to bat at the hands that are undressing him. The fist hits his sternum so hard that he doubles over, breath stolen away once again, but Matthew just shoves him against the chair back and continues working the buttons, roughly pushing the shirt off of his shoulders and tossing it to the side. He moves to Malcolm's pants next, button and zip undone before Malcolm has even gotten his breath back, yanking pants and underwear down so hard that it almost pulls Malcolm from the chair. 

"Kneel for your Alpha, Malcolm," Matthew says, rough hands landing on his body to manhandle him onto his knees on the seat, facing backwards on the chair. He's moved so sharply that he's forced to grab onto the metal chairback to keep from tumbling over the back as Matthew shoves him down so his chest is pressed to the metal and his ass is bared and presented to the Alpha behind him.

"I'll fucking kill you." JT's moved past shouting, his voice pitched low and threatening, with an edge sharper than any blade in Malcolm's collection. It slices beneath Malcolm's skin and should send Matthew running, but somehow, the pheromones don't seem to be having any sort of effect on him.

Malcolm can't bring himself to fight, terrified into submission as he waits to be breached, praying that JT will look away and not witness his shame. His entire body is shaking as he kneels — naked, bleeding, bruised, and humiliated — but the push doesn't come, and when he chances a glance over his shoulder, he can see that Matthew's erection has flagged, no longer tenting his trousers. 

He knows that this is either very good news for him, or very, very bad news. Matthew can definitely get it up by causing Malcolm more pain, but Malcolm is praying that, for once in his life, he has a spark of good luck and is spared at least this.

He doesn't have to wait long for Matthew to make a decision. 

"Change of plans," Matthew says, irritation clear in his voice. He grabs Malcolm around the waist and yanks him to his feet, his strength the only thing that keeps Malcolm from falling to the ground as the puncture wounds pulsate and throb as he's pulled upright. 

Malcolm bites back a cry, eyes seeking out JT as his fear spikes at whatever is about to happen. JT's expression has gone dark, a painful combination of furious and horrified as his eyes rake over Malcolm's body, all of the wounds from the Iki spike visible now that his clothes are off, littering his arms, legs, and torso. He wants to cover himself, hide the wounds and his nakedness, but before he has a chance to do anything, Matthew shoves him hard, sending him stumbling to JT, and JT barely has time to angle himself to allow enough slack in his chains to use his hands to steady Malcolm, immediately moving Malcolm behind him and away from Matthew. 

The two Alphas stare each other down, JT making himself as large as he possibly can in an attempt to intimidate Matthew, while Malcolm hugs himself as close as he can to JT's body.

"Fuck him," Matthew says simply, and Malcolm's stomach plummets at the two small words that take up all the space in the room.

Malcolm's breath leaves him in a whoosh, the room spinning around him as his vision starts to go spotty, his legs threatening to give out beneath him. JT shifts his body as Malcolm sags against him, lifting his arms to loop over Malcolm's head and then sliding down to wrap around his back, using the embrace to pull him against his body and hold him upright. 

"You sick fuck," JT says quietly, obviously straining to keep his voice down for Malcolm's benefit. "I'm not going to…"

" _You_ fuck him, or _I'll_ do it with the 12 gauge shotgun I used to kill the scrawny redhead."

"JT," Malcolm whispers, barely able to choke the words out, his stomach twisting and rebelling at the idea of being penetrated with a firearm. The thought of the violation, the thought that the gun could go off when it's inside of him, these and a thousand others swirl around the confines of his mind, taking over his entire world in the space of an instant.

He can't think of anything else.

He can't think.

He can't breathe. 

He can't…

"Shhhh," JT's calming tones finally break through his blinding panic, and Malcolm realizes that the only thing keeping him upright is JT's arms, wrapped as they are around his waist, propping him up against his body. "Bright, look at me. Please?"

But Malcolm still feels like he's going to throw up and can't bring himself to open his eyes and face what's about to happen. He keeps his face buried in JT's shirt and wills it all to to be nothing more than a horrible nightmare. But even in such close proximity to JT, with the comforting and familiar scent of his friend strong in his nose, he can still smell the sharp tang of Matthew's pleasure as he watches Malcolm cower from across the room.

"Malcolm," JT says quietly, and hearing his first name come from JT's mouth is enough to pull him from the depths of his fear long enough to look up, seeing the absolute agony that's contorting the man's features. "Hey, I need you to talk to me."

"60 seconds boys," Matthew calls out, "and then I'm making the decision for you."

The sound of Matthew's voice is like being dragged over shattered glass, slicing through his skin and shooting splinters into his heart, and his body reacts with a violent tremor that would have sent him crashing to the ground if not for JT.

"I c-can't," he nearly chokes on the words.

"Bright, I'm sorry," JT says and Malcolm can tell how awful he feels about even suggesting it as he leans down to whisper, "I'll be more gentle than he would."

Malcolm whimpers at the words, knowing they're true and knowing it's what they need to do to spare him unspeakable pain and the possibility of a fatal outcome, but it doesn't make it any easier. He nods weakly and drops his face back to JT's chest.

"Time's up gentlemen, am I getting the gun?" Matthew asks around a chuckle that comes from deep in his belly.

"You're one twisted mother fucker, you know that?" JT growls, but Matthew only moves to casually drop himself on the arm of the chair Malcolm had been tied to, facing the two of them and looking on with an excitement burning in his eyes that makes Malcolm push harder against JT.

"Yes, yes, you're a broken record, detective, now get to it."

Malcolm can't stop the tears once they start, streaking his face and soaking into JT's shirt. It's stupid, he thinks, but the panic is unstoppable as it bubbles up in his chest. He knows that worse things could be happening; the burns, cuts, broken bones, amputated appendages, and everything else that Matthew subjected his previous victims to are far worse than being forced to have sex. He tells himself to man up. That he's not some blushing virgin whose virtue is being stolen. That he's been fantasizing about JT for years and has no real reason for the blind terror that's coursing through his veins. 

None of that changes how he actually feels, though.

But he can feel the impatience radiating off of Matthew and fears what will happen if they take too long. Visions of being sodomized with a shotgun steal his breath away, but he forces himself to move, to pull away from the protection of JT's body. He can't bring himself to look the Alpha in the eye, focusing instead on his lips as he says, "Please."

There's a bone deep shame, begging JT to do this, but the alternative is more than he can bear. He mentally apologizes to Tally for forcing her husband into a position where he has to be unfaithful as he waits for JT to respond, but judging by the protective pheromones that are absolutely pouring from his body, he's already decided that he'll do whatever it takes to keep Malcolm as safe as possible. 

JT offers a terse nod and lifts his arms over Malcolm's head to free the use, however limited, of his hands. Malcolm misses the comfort and safety immediately, but bites down on his lip to keep from saying anything and focuses on keeping upright when his entire body just wants to crumple to the floor.

JT brings his hands to the button on his pants and freezes, and Malcolm is terrified for just a moment that he's changed his mind and decided he can't go through with it. But then JT leans in and says, quiet enough that Matthew won't hear, "Uh, Bright. How am I supposed to—I'm not exactly turned on right now."

And really, Malcolm can't blame him for being worried about getting it up. The situation is not exactly conducive to feelings of pleasure and lust, and even if things were different, Malcolm knows that JT wouldn't want to do this anyways. Not with him.

But Malcolm also understands the physiology of Alphas and knows that it won't actually take much to get him ready. Malcolm tentatively reaches out and undoes the button and zipper and tugs JT's pants and underwear down just past the curve of his ass. Just enough to give Malcolm space to wrap a hand around his flaccid cock and slowly start to pump. 

JT turns his head away and shuts his eyes, no doubt picturing someone, _anyone_ , besides the Omega in front of him, and Malcolm tries valiantly to ignore just how much that stings. He tries to keep the sniffles to a minimum as he pumps JT's cock, making sure none of his tears fall to the Alpha's skin where his hand is picking up the pace and JT's body is starting to react to the friction. 

To speed things along — he knows Matthew won't let them take their time with this — Malcolm gives into his body's urge to drop to his knees and stretches his jaw, guiding the Alpha into his mouth and receiving a surprised grunt from JT at the movement. JT may not want this, but with a naked and needy Omega in front of him, biology quickly overrides psychology and soon enough JT is hard and thick in Malcolm's mouth.

Malcolm chances a look at Matthew as he's working JT's cock and notices that he's definitely enjoying the clear discomfort that's radiating from JT, the muscles through his body tense and his face contorted into a grimace that Malcolm never wants to see on the man's face again. But he can also tell that Matthew wants more and is going to make one or both of them hurt soon.

"JT," Malcolm pulls back and whispers around the lump in his throat. "We have to do this."

JT's eyes reluctantly open and look down at Malcolm with so much pain and regret that Malcolm honestly considers just letting Matthew go at him with the gun. He can't do this to JT, not when he cares so damn much about him that it hurts. He's about to suggest as much when JT's booming voice says, "How?"

The question is clearly for Matthew, and Malcolm holds his breath as he awaits the answer.

"On his hands and knees, like the bitch he is," Matthew says with a laugh.

Malcolm is perversely thankful, knowing that he won't have to see the disgust on JT's face as he fucks him. He does as instructed and turns away, dropping his hands to the ground as he draws on every bit of willpower he has to contain the sob that's trying to break free of his chest, focusing his attention on the feel of the hard concrete digging into his knees, and the bruises that are sure to form.

He's hyper-aware of JT's movements behind him by the clinking of the chain as he moves, by the rustle of his clothes, by the way his breathing hitches as he kneels down and can no longer ignore the way Malcolm is presented for him to take. As cognizant as he is of the Alpha's movements, though, it still startles him when a wet finger presses against the furled muscle of his asshole as JT whispers, "I'm sorry."

The finger has only begun to breach him when Matthew speaks up from his perch on the chair. "I said fuck him," he drawls, and Malcolm would think he sounded bored if it wasn't for the razor-sharp edge of excitement underlying the words, "not play with his ass."

"I need to prep him," JT growls, moving his finger faster, knowing exactly what Matthew's answer to that will be.

"No. You don't."

The finger pulls out and Malcolm hears JT spit on his hand and stroke himself before he spits on Malcolm hole, trying to provide any sort of lubrication to make it less painful. Within seconds, the head of JT's cock is pressing against his entrance and Malcolm immediately tenses up, clenching against the imminent intrusion. JT pauses, laying his hand on the small of Malcolm's back, the heat radiating from his skin feeling like fire against Malcolm's chilled body.

"Dude, you need to try to relax," JT whispers, and Malcolm can hear the strain in his voice. "I don't want to hurt you."

But that's exactly what Matthew _does_ want, and he's obviously itching to start. "JT, I won't ask again." The threat is clear and makes Malcolm's stomach twist in painful knots.

JT's hand stays on his back as he pushes in, an anchor that Malcolm can attempt to focus on as the thick cock forces its way through the tight ring of muscle, but almost immediately it's more pain than he can handle and he tries to pull away, scrambling forward on the cracked floor as he tries to escape the building pressure and the tearing that he feels as JT forces his way into his tight channel. JT's hands fly to his hip and he lays his forearm across Malcolm's lower back to keep him from pulling away, knowing Matthew won't offer them another chance. Malcolm screams as JT fully seats himself, bottoming out with a stuttered breath that sounds more like a sob than a groan, but Malcolm is too lost in the pain that's ripping through him to truly register the sound.

"Hard," Matthew orders.

"For fucks sake, man, give him a minute," JT barks, large hands wrapped so tight around Malcolm's side that it's sure to leave marks, keeping him in place.

"No."

Malcolm cries out as JT pulls back, the dry drag feeling like broken glass scraping and stabbing against his insides, while the stretch makes him ache so deep inside that he's sure this is what death must feel like. 

"Bright, I'm sorry," JT rumbles as he pushes back in, not nearly as hard as Matthew wants, but enough that it feels like his guts are being pummeled.

"Harder!" Matthew shouts.

Ironically, the tearing from the intrusion proves to be a blessing, making Malcolm bleed enough that the next thrust glides a little easier, easing the burn just a fraction. All Malcolm can do is squeeze his eyes shut, clench his hands into fists so tight that his nails draw blood, and try to breath through the pain as JT's hips snap harder and harder with every one of Matthew's shouts. Eventually JT's precum adds to the slick slide, as well, but it still hurts — the drag of JT's cock over torn flesh causing a sting that marries with the ache in his gut.

Malcolm does his best to shut himself away, to close down his mind and disassociate from his body. He's not entirely successful, but he does manage to feel a step removed from what's being done to him, like a layer of fog separates his mind from his body. He hears Matthew's excited shouts every time Malcolm sobs or whimpers or struggles to get away, hears JT's broken apologies and angry threats, but none of it _truly_ registers. 

Eventually, even through the pain, even though his mind is not entirely present, his body begins to react to the stimulus as JT shifts on his knees and incidentally hits Malcolm's prostate with every pump of his hips. It's humiliating in a way he hasn't yet felt. Malcolm drops his head to his hands and lets himself cry unchecked as his cock begins to swell and throb, bouncing against his stomach as his body rocks beneath the force of JT's thrusts. Earlier, with JT, he understood it was a matter of biology to get the Alpha hard and ready to go. It's impossible to apply the same rationale to himself, though. He hates himself for how his body is betraying him.

JT's thrusts falter as Malcolm's scent turns bitter with self-loathing and he can feel the Alpha's erection begin to flag inside of him.

"Don't stop now, it's just getting good," Matthew says, and even with his face buried in his arms, Malcolm can hear the smile on the man's face.

"I can't," JT cries, voice thick with emotion that he's trying his damndest to contain. His softening cock slips free from Malcolm's abused hole, and his grip eases enough that Malcolm can fall onto his side on the cold concrete floor, curled up into a fetal position with a pained cry.

"That's very disappointing, Detective," Matthew gets to his feet and walks over to a locked cabinet beside the table in the room, something Malcolm hadn't even noticed until just now. 

As much as Malcolm wants to close his eyes against whatever is about to come, he knows he needs to watch. To keep looking for a sign of weakness, something he can use to talk them out of this situation. So he witnesses Matthew pull a pistol from the cabinet, something his brain recognizes as more than just a typical handgun, but in his current state, he can't quite place it. It's just a little too big, with a barrel just a little too wide.

He's still trying to work it out when Matthew aims the gun at JT and pulls the trigger.

"Guess I'll have to do it myself," Matthew sighs as JT drops to the floor.


	3. Chapter 3

NOW

"JT, you didn't—" Malcolm starts but can't bring himself to say the word. It wasn't rape. It could never be rape with JT. But it certainly wasn't consensual. For either of them. "It's not about that." He changes tack, hoping they can leave the elephant in the room unremarked upon. "I don't want you to transfer. And I definitely don't want you to 'turn yourself in'. You didn't do anything wrong."

JT huffs out a breath, the sound caught somewhere between disbelief and anguish, and it breaks Malcolm's heart to know that JT truly believes that he's to blame, and that Malcolm forced him to deal with it alone these last few months. As much as he wanted to disappear without facing JT again, he's suddenly thankful that the man showed up when he did. The idea of JT living with the guilt that he's obviously feeling, even for another minute, let alone for years to come, feels like a black hole opening inside of him, sucking in everything that he is until there's nothing left.

Malcolm looks over, forces himself to look JT in the eye, risking the detective putting all the clues together to figure out why he's really leaving, to assure him, "JT. You didn't do anything wrong."

But JT seems incapable of meeting Malcolm's eyes for longer than a second before he looks away. The guilt must be eating him alive.

"You didn't do anything wrong," Malcolm says again enunciating each word, his own panic dying down when faced with JT's pain. He pushes himself to his feet and walks over to where JT is sitting, crouching down in front of him and laying a hand over JT's where it's white-knuckling the arm of the chair before he says it again. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"How can you say that?"

"Because it's true," Malcolm says simply and JT looks up at the honesty that rings clearly in the words. "It was an impossible situation and we both did what we had to do to make it out alive. That's all."

He can smell the change in JT, the slightly sour notes that Malcolm hadn't even registered in his panic starting to ebb, fading closer to his natural scent — an unusual combination of patchouli and hot sand that Malcolm was drawn to from the moment he met the detective all those years ago. It's not until he's kneeling beside him, the aroma washing over him, that he realizes just how much he's missed JT's scent over the last few months. It calms him and makes him feel safe in a way that he doesn't often feel.

Malcolm needs to make sure that there is no room for doubt in JT's mind, that, if he's going to be leaving JT to live his life without the complications that Malcolm's presence would create, JT can forget about the whole incident and focus on Tally and Aaliyah like he should. The thought sends a bolt of guilt shooting through him as he realizes that Tally has had to watch JT break apart over the last few months, when Malcolm could have done this earlier, if he hadn't been so wrapped up in his own head. He decides that he can berate himself later for his selfishness and presses on, making sure that JT is looking him in the eye as he says, "JT, I'm not angry with you. I don't blame you for what happened. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you this sooner. I honestly didn't consider how everything that happened would have affected you, and for that I am truly sorry."

JT looks at him with such a wide range of emotions flickering over his face that Malcolm has nothing to do but wait and see which of them stick before he can say anything else. Confusion and hope seem to be the most prevalent as JT asks, "You don't hate me?"

"I could never hate you," Malcolm says, his heart twisting and pinching as he realizes it's probably as close to 'I love you' as he's ever likely to say to the man. 

"Then why are you leaving?" JT leans forward in the chair, that same resolution from before settling over his features as he watches Malcolm's face for any signs of deceit and Malcolm suddenly regrets having taught the man so much about how to read facial expressions and body language over the course of the last year or so.

"I have to," Malcolm says, eyes dropping away from JT's, despite his intentions to maintain eye contact. He can't bring himself to lie, which means the best he can do is evade, so he pushes himself to his feet and adds, "And my ride should be here any minute."

He should have known that JT wouldn't leave it at that, standing up and planting himself in front of Malcolm as he says, "That's not good enough, man. You don't _have_ to do anything. You're _choosing_ to leave, and don't tell me it's because you want to. I saw how freaked out you were when I came in and I can smell how unhappy you are right now." When Malcolm tries to turn away JT lays a gentle hand on his forearm, keeping him from turning his back on the conversation. "Bright, please. Talk to me."

Malcolm is struck by how genuinely JT wants to help, even after Malcolm caused him so much pain by refusing to talk to him since the incident with Matthew. It's funny, he thinks, how they naturally fall into a pattern of being strong when the other one needs it, pushing aside everything to help the other through, and he can't quite pinpoint when in their relationship that happened. When they truly became partners.

JT and Tally have been his best friends for a while now, despite his deeper emotions for the man. It's surprisingly simple to push those feelings aside when he spends — _spent_ — so much time with JT's family. Evenings at JT's house, playing sous-chef to Tally in the kitchen, laughing and joking as they watch JT play horsey with Aaliyah in the living room. Weekends at the park, pushing Aaliyah on the baby swing and chasing her through the grass, swooping her up as her peals of laughter fill the air, giving JT and Tally some alone time on their picnic blanket, letting them have the space to reaffirm their love for one another. 

Babysitting for date night, shopping for Christmas presents with Tally, joining JT and Tally for a game of pool on the occasional Friday night.

JT, Tally and Aaliyah have become an extension of his own family, and he would do anything to protect them. Anything. Even if it means sacrificing their friendship.

He steels himself as he says, "I have my reasons, and I'd appreciate you keeping yourself out of my business." He tugs his arm from JT's light grasp and tries his damndest to ignore the prickle at the back of his eyes as a look of hurt flashes across JT's face before Malcolm can turn away. He makes his way to the front door and yanks it open, standing with his hand on the knob in a clear indication that he'd like JT to leave. He's honestly not sure how much longer he can keep up the act, and needs JT to leave before his backbone crumbles and he loses his ability to see this through. "I think you should leave."

JT hesitates for a moment, insecurity clear in his aborted movements, before he straightens his spine and plants his feet, military bearing shining through as he crosses his arms over his broad chest and says, "No."

"No?"

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on. You say you don't blame me but you can barely look me in the eye. You say moving is your choice, but you were on the floor in the middle of a panic attack when I came in here. You're moving hundreds of miles away and you weren't even gonna say goodbye to Tally and Aaliyah?" JT huffs, a hint of anger seeping into the concern at the mention of his wife and daughter. "Aaliyah asks for you every day, you know that? And it breaks my heart to tell her that you don't feel good, but I figured you needed some space, and I understood that, man. I did. But to up and leave without a word? That's not cool. And that's not you. So what the hell is actually going on?"

Malcolm can't fight the tears as they fall at the mention of Aaliyah and Tally. He's missed them, too, so damn much. But what was he supposed to do? Pop over when JT was at work, say, "Hey, I'm about to upend your lives, wanna watch House Hunters?" It was better for all of them to just cut off contact. 

"I don't know what you want me to say," he murmurs, throat tight as he chokes back the tears.

"I want you to tell me the truth."

He can feel himself breaking, heart shattering faster than his resolve. In a feat of strength he didn't know he was capable of, he tries one last time, "I can't." It's little more than a whisper of breath, but he knows JT hears it because he's suddenly wrapped up in the man's strong arms once again, held securely against his firm body,

And with that, he loses the battle.

"I'm sorry," he says through the tears. "I'm so sorry."

"Whatever it is," JT says, dropping a small kiss on the top of Malcolm's head, and Malcolm would be willing to bet JT doesn't even realize he's done it, as the caring, nurturing aspects of his Alpha personality take over, "we'll figure it out."

It terrifies him, the thought of telling JT the truth. But he knows that he doesn't really have a choice anymore. 

"I'm pregnant," the words are muffled against JT's shirt, his earthy scent filling Malcolm's lungs and heart with every breath. His eyes are closed but he doesn't need to look to see JT's reaction, feeling JT stiffen beneath him, muscles pulling tight even as his grip on Malcolm slackens. He sucks in a breath and hurries to explain that he doesn't expect anything from him, that it doesn't need to change JT's life in any way. "You don't need to do anything. We don't even have to say that it's yours. I understand that you already have a family and I would never want this to come between you and Tally. I thought that if I left, it would make things easier for—"

"Stop," it's as close to an order as JT has ever gotten with him and Malcolm's jaw snaps shut at the single word.

He can't seem to manage a full breath as he waits for JT to say something, tension strumming through his body leaving him strung tight as the anxiety begins to build once again. Whether it's his pheromones or whether JT can just feel it through his body, his terror must be obvious, because JT's hand automatically moves to stroke up and down his back, even though Malcolm can sense the turbulent emotions coursing through the man.

"Did you—" JT starts but cuts himself off, breathing deeply before he starts again. "You were just gonna take off? 

It had seemed like the right decision at the time, but at JT's tone, he's starting to question if that was truly the wisest course of action.

"You really thought I wouldn't want to take care of my kid? Take care of you?" JT asks, hurt colouring his words.

Malcolm honestly didn't give much thought to that. All he really considered was the fact that this pregnancy was going to disrupt JT's life, possibly cause issues between him and Tally, and be little more than a distraction that would take away from JT's already limited time with his family. 

It's been less than two weeks since Malcolm discovered he was pregnant and, frankly, he's been operating in panic mode the entire time. He spent so much of that time focusing on the details of the move, and doing whatever it takes to protect JT, Tally, and Aaliyah, that he hasn't really stopped to consider the fact that the life growing inside of him, _his baby_ , is JT's, too. If he had, he would have recognized that JT is far too honourable to not want his child in his life, even if that child is...unexpected.

The enormity of what he was about to do hits him all at once and he feels like an idiot for ever thinking that JT would be better off not knowing about the baby. He pulls away from JT's embrace as the shame washes over him, scrubbing his hands over his face as he says, "What am I doing?"

JT lays his hands gently on Malcolm's shoulders and waits for him to uncover his face and look up before he says, "Hopefully, unpacking these bags?" Malcolm can still feel the anger and hurt coming from JT, but there's something else underlying it all, something warm and comforting, something that feels protective and claiming.

The buzzer startles them both and pulls Malcolm from the hazy fog of his muddled thoughts. He looks at JT, searches his face for any signs that he might want Malcolm to leave, and finds only a genuine hope that Malcolm won't.

"Are you sure about that?" he asks, not trusting how he's reading the situation. "I can leave right now and be out of your life for good. No one needs to know."

"I would know," JT says simply. "I want you to stay. I want you _both_ to stay." His eyes drop to Malcolm's stomach and Malcolm would swear he could see a small smile begin to form on JT's face, but the buzzer sounds again and Malcolm walks over to the intercom.

"I'll be right down, Adolpho, there's been a bit of a change in plans," he says to the man waiting in the street below, then turns back to JT. "I'm going to go tell him I won't be needing a ride to the airport anymore." It's more of a question than a statement, as Malcolm is feeling a bit adrift at the sudden upheaval in his life.

"Want me to come with?" JT offers, obviously sensing how lost Malcolm is feeling.

"No. Thank you," he tries to smile. He could use the time, even if it's just a moment or two, to pull himself together without the detective's keen gaze on him.

He takes the stairs slowly, and spares some additional time to ask after Adolpho's family before he explains that he won't be flying out today. Adolpho seems relieved to hear it and asks if there's anything he can do, but Malcolm just sends him along with his thanks, leaving him standing alone on the curb when the car pulls away.

It's only a matter of seconds before the hairs on his neck stand on end, and he looks up to see JT in the half-moon window, looking down at him with an intensity that makes Malcolm's blood rush in his ears.

He takes a deep breath and heads back inside, slowly climbing the stairs as he tries to figure out where to go from here, now that JT knows about the pregnancy. Unfortunately, the few flights of stairs is not enough time to provide him with an answer.

JT is waiting at the door when he comes back in. He reaches out slowly, giving Malcolm ample time to pull away from the touch, and wraps an arm around his shoulders to pull him into a sideways hug, providing comfort through the touch as well as the close proximity.

"You wanna cancel your flight?" JT asks with a degree of anxiety in his voice, like Malcolm might say no.

"Yeah," Malcolm says, leaning into the man just a little, discreetly breathing him in before he pulls away and grabs his phone, calling the family's travel agent and asking her to cancel his ticket. Though it's surprisingly easy to have that taken care of, he's reminded of all the other things he's going to have to do if he plans on staying put. He's already registered a forwarding address at the post office to redirect his mail, the movers are coming in the afternoon and he has a company booked to unpack everything at the Milton home once the movers drop it off, and he'll have to arrange for the home to be closed up once again.

"One step at a time, man," JT says, and Malcolm realizes he'd been speaking out loud. "How can I help?"

"Sorry, it's fine. Just let me cancel the movers before they come all the way out here. Everything else can wait until later."

JT nods and waits at the front door while Malcolm calls the movers, pacing through the loft as he cancels the appointment and agrees to forfeit his deposit. While he's on hold as the representative he's speaking with confirms with her manager, he hears JT making his own phone call.

"Hey, hon. Do you think your sister or Mrs. Bailey could take Aaliyah for a few hours?" JT pauses, listening to Tally for a moment before he says, "We're on our way now and we really need to talk. All three of us." Another pause as a soft smile spreads over JT's face, erasing some of the stress that Malcolm knows he is responsible for. "He's gonna be fine, but I'll explain everything when we get there. Okay. Love you, too. Bye."

Malcolm halts his pacing as he witnesses the contentment that settles over JT's features as he hears his wife's voice, glad that JT has Tally to bring that kind of genuine happiness into his life. It's only when JT is with Tally and Aaliyah that Malcolm ever sees him smile like that — like he hasn't witnessed firsthand the worst that humanity has to offer. When JT is with his family, all of the hardness and cynicism falls away, the ease of loving his family taking its place. As Detective Tarmel — decorated army veteran and distinguished member of the NYPD — the man is stoney-faced and intimidating. As JT — the loving husband and devoted father — he's a teddy bear of a man, made of warm hugs and a booming laugh.

He's beautiful when he smiles.

Malcolm only realizes he's staring when JT arches an eyebrow at him. He spins back around and continues his pacing, thankful when the manager comes to the phone to confirm his cancellation. By the time he's ready to go, he's feeling slightly more even-footed, even if his nerves are leaving him queasy and agitated. 

As he makes his way to the front door, he notices that JT's eyes have wandered down to his stomach, eyeing the area where their child is growing, though there's no visible evidence as yet. Malcolm can see a small paunch when he's in the shower (though he very purposefully no longer looks at himself naked in the mirror), but at this point, there's no visible difference when he's fully clothed in the three piece suit that he uses as a form of armour, now more than ever.

Malcolm smiles bashfully and opens the door, stopping only when JT grabs hold of his suitcase and carry-on, looking at the Alpha with knitted brows, confusion evident in every line on his face. 

"Come stay with us. Just for a couple days," JT says, throwing the strap of the carry-on over his shoulder. At Malcolm's look of surprise, he pushes on, "I'd feel better if you weren't alone right now. And we have a lot to talk about."

Malcolm hates how much he loves the idea of staying at JT's, of having the Alpha's scent to comfort him at night, when the fear that's been scratching and crawling at him since Matthew Vaughn abducted them is at its worst. 

"I'm not sure that Tally is going to love that idea when she hears the news," Malcolm says, offering JT an easy take-back for the hasty offer.

"Bro, you'll be lucky if she lets you leave at all. She's been crazy worried about you." JT pauses, clearly unsure if he should say what he's thinking. It takes a few seconds before he quietly adds, "We've both been really worried about you."

It's bittersweet. Knowing they've been thinking about him starts to warm the frost that seems to have settled in his bones and in his soul since the incident, but at the same time, he wonders if Tally would have been as worried if she knew everything that happened that night. If she knew about the baby. 

He can't allow himself to even consider how JT feels about him. 

He's also not getting his hopes up about staying with them, knowing that the situation is volatile enough that, even if JT is inviting him to stay right now, by the end of the day, the Tarmels could be telling him they never want to see him again.

So he cautiously nods his consent and JT leads them out of his apartment, carrying his bags like they weigh nothing down to where he’s left his car in a no parking zone, hefting them into the trunk.

The car ride is silent, but Malcolm would swear he can feel the tension from both of them begin to melt away as they drive. He can't be sure exactly what JT is feeling, but for him, just the fact that he's no longer holding onto his secret is more than just a weight off his shoulders; it's like he can breathe for the first time in months and feels nearly giddy with relief. He's still terrified about how everything is going to play out, but for now, at least, he doesn't have to bear the weight of everything alone.

They pull up in front of JT's apartment building and Malcolm looks up, biting on his lip as he realizes they're going to have to talk. About _everything_. He's not sure he's ready for that just yet.

"Hey man," JT reaches over and lays a gentle hand on Malcolm's forearm, "you okay?"

"I'm fine." He does his best to fashion his expression into an easy smile, though from JT's pursed lips, he doesn't do a very good job of it.

"We'll figure this out. Together," JT says so earnestly that Malcolm can't help but trust that it's the truth. It won't be easy, but they'll find a solution, and maybe that solution won't involve moving away from his friends and family. 

Beneath the nerves, hope begins to bloom.

Tally is waiting for them in the living room and pushes to her feet anxiously as they walk through the door. There's only a second of hesitation before she rushes forward and pulls Malcolm into a tight hug. He wraps his arms around her instinctively, having missed her steady presence in his life over the last few months. As a Beta, her scent is weaker but beautiful nonetheless, cinnamon and cardamom and something indistinguishable that has always felt like home to Malcolm.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. Sorry for ignoring her calls and cutting her out of his life, sorry for having sex with her husband, sorry for the hand grenade he's about to lob into her life.

"I'm just glad you're here," she says, squeezing him a little tighter before pulling back and letting her eyes roam over his body. "You've lost weight. Lemme go make you something. I've got a batch of my homemade minestrone soup in the fridge, I could heat some up?"

Three months he's been radio silent and the first thing she does after giving him the best hug he's ever had is offer to feed him. He's not sure what he did to deserve Tally Tarmel in his life, but he's beyond thankful for her friendship. He doesn't realize that a few tears have escaped down his cheeks until she leans in and brushes them away with her thumbs, speaking quietly as she does.

"Whatever it is, it's going to be okay," she promises.

He doesn't hesitate as she leads him to the sofa, the two of them settling in while JT takes his bags down the hall. He hadn't thought of it when JT made the offer, but their apartment is only two bedrooms, a master and Aaliyah's room. His presence here will completely disrupt their lives, and all at once he wonders what the hell he was thinking coming here. Everything he was about to do was to make sure the Tarmels were as unaffected as possible by what was happening, and now he's dragged them into the thick of it and his mere presence in their life is upending their quiet home.

"Malcolm, breathe," Tally says quietly as she rubs circles on his back, and he only now realizes that he's started to hyperventilate once again. She pushes down between his shoulder blades so he's bent in half and continues to move her hand in soothing circles until his breathing levels out a few minutes later. When he's calmed down enough to sit back up, he's surprised to find JT across from him, crouched down with one knee on the floor, worry creasing his features.

"I can't do this," Malcolm breathes out, eyes pleading, begging him not to do this to Tally. There's still time for him to make that flight if he hurries and she never needs to know what happened that day or that he's carrying proof of it in his womb. He pushes unsteadily to his feet, startling both of the Tarmels as he makes his way back to the door.

"Malcolm?" Tally asks, confusedly getting to her feet as well.

"I shouldn't be here. This was a mistake," he says pacing the small area in front of the door, dragging a hand through his hair as he walks. "I should leave."

"And what?" JT asks, a note of anger creeping into his voice. "Move a thousand miles away while you're carrying my child?"

Malcolm freezes, the air punched from his lungs as his gaze shifts from JT to Tally, betrayed to confused. He watches as comprehension dawns and Tally's features perform a complicated dance of shock, sadness and an underlying happiness that Malcolm can't quite understand. He can't do anything but stand there, stuck in a state of limbo, waiting for the axe to drop and unable to do anything to try to stop it.

It's Tally that breaks their little tableau, stepping forward slowly as if Malcolm is a cornered animal that she's trying not to spook. He tries not to let it bother him just how accurate that assessment is. The tremor that's running through his body only becomes more pronounced as she reaches out and takes hold of his hand, but, somehow, he finds only acceptance in her steady gaze.

"Mal, can you come sit?" she asks quietly, keeping a warm grip on his hand but making no move to urge him back in.

His eyes dart back and forth between Tally and JT, but his brain can't seem to process their expressions or body language, leaving him entirely unsure where he stands. He's unaccustomed to the feeling.

Tally, as always, has the patience of a saint. While JT gets visibly restless standing in the entranceway, The Beta waits quietly with a small smile on her face until Malcolm finally offers a hesitant nod. Only then does she give his hand a small tug, leading him back to the sofa, sitting close enough to link their arms together and keep her hand in his.

"Hon, why don't you go put the soup on, hmm? Set the table?" Tally looks pointedly at JT. 

"Yep," JT turns on his heel and makes his way to the kitchen, obviously pleased to have something tangible to do when he's feeling otherwise helpless, and the sound of pots banging and bowls clinking follows him as soon as he leaves.

Malcolm braces himself, ready to take whatever judgment Tally bestows. If she asks him to leave, he'll be gone before she even finishes the sentence. If she asks him to stay out of their lives forever, he'll respect her wishes and never see them again.

"Malcolm," she says and waits for him to build up enough courage to look her in the eye. "We both love you and I want you to know we support whatever decisions you want to make here."

It's not what he was expecting and his shock must show on his face, because Tally gives his hand a squeeze and presses on.

"Look, when JT got home last night, he was a mess. He thought you were leaving because of him, because of what happened between you all those weeks ago," she brings a hand to his jaw and gently angles his face back to her when he looks away, ashamed and embarrassed. "JT told me what happened. What didn't make it into the report."

Malcolm doesn't know what to say to that. He was under the impression that he and JT were the only ones who knew the extent of what went down that night, but he realizes now how naive that assumption was. JT and Tally tell each other everything. It's why their marriage is as strong as it is.

But if Tally has known all along, and was still trying to reach out all this time, then maybe everything he'd been planning was all for nothing.

"The thing is, he's been a wreck since that night. And when the two of you came through the door just now, that was the first spark of light that I've seen in his eyes since he got released from the hospital." Tally chews on the inside of her cheek, clearly debating on what to say, "So all I'm saying, is that whatever you decide to do, we're here for you. But we both miss you and would love for you to stick around, if that's what you want."

He hasn't actually given any thought at all to what he wants. It's possible that he's been purposely ignoring the fact that the life that's growing inside of him right now will one day be a fully formed baby. That, in approximately six months, he's going to be a father. With everything else that's been happening, it's just been too overwhelming to even consider.

"Do you want this baby?" she asks simply.

It hadn't really occurred to him that it was an option. He finds it funny, though, that with all the insecurity and panic he's been enduring ever since he found out he was pregnant, now that he's stopped to think about it, even just for a moment, there isn't a single doubt in his mind.

"Yes."

"Thank God." It's little more than a breath, but Malcolm and Tally both twist to face the entranceway between the livingroom and kitchen to find JT leaning on the wall, scrubbing a hand over his face, a tidal wave of relief rolling off of him and slamming into Malcolm.

Malcolm is so wound up in a jumble of confused emotions that he doesn't know what to say. From the moment he woke up, nothing has gone the way he'd expected. He's supposed to be at the airport right now, heading away from the Tarmels, and now he's in their living room, and JT is relieved that Malcolm wants to keep the baby that the Alpha wasn't even supposed to know about. It's an awful lot to process.

JT moves into the living room and perches on the edge of the sofa next to Malcolm, taking the hand that Tally's not already holding in hers, enveloping him in a loving warmth from both sides.

"Tally's right, man," JT says, "we're gonna support you, whatever you wanna do. But I want you to know that I'd really like to be a part of this baby's life."

"Really?" Malcolm whispers, not quite ready to believe it could be true.

"Malcolm, you've been a part of this family for a long time now," Tally assures him, leaning in to bump their shoulders together. "This doesn't change that. If anything, it only cements things further. You and your baby are welcome here, always."

Both of his hands are wrapped up in the Tarmels' so he doesn't have a free hand to wipe the tears that spill into his cheeks, but it's okay, because for the first time since Matthew Vaughn held them captive, Malcolm feels at peace.

He tenses up a little as JT wraps a hand around the back of his neck and tugs him in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, but Tally just gives his hand a little squeeze and he allows himself to relax into the Alpha's embrace. 

"Lunch is probably ready," Tally says eventually, untangling her arm from Malcolm's but giving him a pat on the leg to let him know that everything is okay. "And don't even think about saying you're not hungry. You're eating for two now, and I'm going to make it my personal mission to see you well fed for the next, what, six months?"

Malcolm huffs out a laugh and pulls back from JT, following Tally's lead in pushing to his feet and heading to the kitchen, JT following close behind. 

"Yeah, something like that," Malcolm says, but ducks his head, embarrassed that he doesn't have the answers to the questions that they're bound to have. "I, uh, I don't really remember much of what the doctor said. I was a little surprised by the news. I'm not even sure when I'm due."

JT sidles up beside him and casually rests a hand on his lower back. "It's cool, man. We can go to the doctor together, if that's alright with you?"

Intellectually, Malcolm isn't surprised by how tactile JT has become since finding out about the baby. It's in his nature. The fact that his offspring is inside of Malcolm is bound to make JT slip deeply into the role of protector and caregiver. But having that affection turned to him goes beyond understanding the mechanics of his biology. It's a fine line to walk, caught between wanting more of the Alpha's touch as his own biology screams at him to nest and mate and bond, and knowing that nothing will ever become of it. JT's touch simultaneously fills a deep chasm inside of him while leaving him aching for more.

He puts all of those feelings on the back burner for the time being, knowing he'll have time to sift through them later, and lets JT lead him to the table. A faint blush sweeps over Malcolm's cheeks as JT pulls out his chair for him, but thankfully neither JT nor Tally seem to notice, busy as they are with getting their lunch ready to serve.

Soon the three of them are sitting around the table, hot bowls of minestrone soup and slices of grilled baguette in front of them. JT digs in with a gusto that has Tally beaming, and Malcolm is able to deduce that JT's appetite has been fairly non-existent lately. His gaze drops from JT as he realizes that, despite his best intentions, everything he does seems to make things worse for the man.

"It tastes better if you eat it, rather than just look at it," Tally says gently and Malcolm looks up to find two sets of worried eyes on him. 

"Sorry," he says under his breath and picks up his spoon to take a bite. It's delicious, as always. Malcolm is convinced that Tally could be a Michelin star chef if she decided to switch careers, and he's eaten at enough Michelin rated restaurants to be a decent authority on the matter. Even something as simple as reheated minestrone soup is elevated to a new level when it's prepared by Tally.

He wasn't hungry — really, he's just been far too nervous to consider eating — but once he takes the first bite he discovers that he's hungrier than he thought. It doesn't hurt that Tally smiles at him the same way she smiled at JT when he finally starts eating in earnest.

"I'm going to ask my sister to keep Ali overnight," Tally calls over her shoulder as she fills up their bowls with a second helping at the stove. "I think it would be good for us to have some time to talk." She brings their refilled bowls back to the table and presses a kiss to JT's head as she places his bowl in front of him. Malcolm receives a smile and a quick squeeze of his shoulder with his bowl before she sits back down, and it warms him more than the soup ever could.

"You don't have to do that," Malcolm insists. "Honestly, I appreciate the offer to stay, but it's entirely unnecessary. And the last thing I want to do is kick Aaliyah out of her home."

"Sweetheart, Ali will be thrilled to stay with Auntie Carra for the night. And I haven't seen you in months and could use some baby-free time with my BFF," there's a lightness to her tone, but he can tell she means it. Usually they get together weekly, oftentimes even more frequently. He can't deny that a day with JT and Tally sounds wonderful.

"Besides, I already made up the sofa bed," JT says around a mouthful of the hearty soup.

"Hon, don't talk with your mouth full," Tally rolls her eyes, and it feels so natural to be there, so domestic and authentically _home_ , that Malcolm feels a smile pulling at the edges of his lips.

He manages a few more bites, making it the most food he's eaten in the two weeks since he found out he's pregnant, and he can't deny he feels better for it. Though it may have more to do with the company than the food, if he's honest with himself. JT and Tally very purposefully keep the conversation light while they eat, filling Malcolm in on Aaliyah's playdate with the boy in 3C, their last date night at Amsterdam Billiards, and their failed attempt at learning salsa dancing via YouTube instructables. He appreciates that they're giving him time to settle in before the heavy conversation begins.

It's not until they're clearing the dishes away that Malcolm considers the fact that it's the middle of the day and JT is home.

"Aren't you supposed to be at work?" he asks as he dries the dishes that Tally washes, while JT puts the last of the leftovers into single size Tupperware containers. 

"I told Gil I needed a personal day," JT answers with a shrug. "Have enough time built up to take a few days. He, uh, he understood."

Of course he did. Gil has been playing middle man for the last three months, answering Malcolm's less-than-subtle questions about JT's wellbeing since Malcolm refused to speak to JT himself, and Malcolm assumes he was doing the same for JT. He knows that Gil suspects something happened when Matthew had them, but in true Gil fashion, he's been giving them time to work it through, making sure they know he's available to talk whenever they're ready without ever pushing the subject. Gil would've been more than happy to give JT a few days off if it meant the two of them might finally speak to one another. 

With the three of them working together, the kitchen is cleaned up in no time and they head back into the living room, agreeing to watch a movie together before they delve into conversations about the future. He knows they're still working on making him feel comfortable, and he appreciates the effort more than he could ever express.

Tally sits at one end of the sofa, her feet curled up beneath her, ready to lean into JT as he sits down beside her. He's seen them sit like this so many times before, and he's never given a second thought to where he's planning to sit. But for some reason, he finds himself hesitating in the doorway, unsure where he fits in their family dynamic now.

"Come on, man," JT says patting the cushion beside him, "Superheroes await."

Tally looks at him expectantly and he lowers himself to the sofa, leaving a healthy amount of space between himself and JT, to Tally's clear amusement. She doesn't say anything, however, just drops her head to JT's chest and pulls one of the throw blankets from the back of the sofa to toss over her lap.

JT cues up the movie and soon they're drawn into the world of superheroes and evil villains, and it seems so much like the times _before_ that Malcolm is able to forget for a moment just how much has changed.

But with the sudden shift to relaxed and comfortable, the last few weeks of sleepless nights finally catch up with him. He doesn't feel himself tilting into JT's warm body, doesn't feel JT's arm curl around his shoulder and pull him in, he just succumbs to the safety and security of the feeling of home that surrounds him.

Until the nightmares begin.


	4. Chapter 4

THEN

Malcolm's shout is little more than a grating, rasping static, his throat raw from screaming and crying. He shoves himself back to hands and knees, ignoring the sharp pain inside of him as he moves, crawling over to JT's body, icy claws of terror constricting his heart when he sees just how lifeless he looks. It takes a few seconds to realize that JT is still breathing, shallow as it may be, and for Malcolm to notice the dart sticking out of his neck.

Tranquilizer.

He nearly collapses in relief but is yanked up by rough hands, sobbing at the expansive pain that shoots through his body with the jarring movement. Matthew drags him back to the chair but forces him to kneel on the seat facing the back of the chair once again, and has his arms tied to the metal backing before Malcolm even has the presence of mind to attempt to fight back. By then, it's too late to do much good.

He kicks out and manages to make glancing contact with Matthew's thigh, but the kidney blow he gets in return nearly has him blacking out in pain. Matthew takes full advantage of the way Malcolm practically collapses to tie his calves to the arms of the chair, leaving him trapped in a kneeling position, naked and exposed. Once he's pleased with the bonds, Matthew stands behind Malcolm and laughs cruelly.

"Oh, he really did a number on you, hmm?" 

Malcolm can feel Matthew's eyes on his swollen hole and whimpers at just how vulnerable he is at the moment. He tugs at his restraints but even though they're not tied nearly as secure as they had been originally, he doesn't have enough strength to stand any chance at freeing himself. Eventually he gives up, dropping his head to his bound hands, his body sagging with exhaustion.

"Oh don't stop, little Omega. I was enjoying watching you struggle," Matthew says and Malcolm doesn't doubt that for a second. "Your fear is just…" Matthew makes a show of sniffing in a deep breath of air, "delicious."

Malcolm doesn't deign to reply, knowing that it's a no-win situation. He'll either piss the man off or play into his sadistic fantasies. So he closes his eyes and tries his hardest to ignore how much his entire body hurts and how terrifying it is to have Matthew standing behind him when he's positioned the way he is.

After a few minutes, Matthew moves around Malcolm, running his hand up the length of Malcolm's back as he moves, deceptively gentle, considering everything he's done so far. In spite of his best efforts, Malcolm shudders beneath the touch, though he does manage to keep himself from flinching away.

"Hang tight, Malcolm, I'll be back before you know it." A pat on the shoulder and Matthew leaves the room.

Malcolm forces his body to relax as best he can, knowing he needs to use whatever reprieves he's granted to rest, but kneeling as he is on the hard metal chair, with no way to adjust his position, it's nearly impossible to get comfortable enough to truly release the tension from his muscles. 

He attempts, at the very least, to allow his mind a break, trying his best to fall into a state of meditation. He slips into the same mindful breathing techniques he practices during yoga, and attempts to empty his mind, letting go of the pain and fear that's threatening to consume him entirely.

Unfortunately, before he's made much progress, the door to the room swings open. Because of the way he's been tied to the chair, he has a clear view of Matthew's entrance, and his stomach plummets as he watches Matthew stroll in with a shotgun and a smile.

An icy wave courses through his veins as Malcolm realizes exactly what's about to happen. The tremors that begin to rock his body start small but in a matter of seconds he's shaking so hard that the ropes binding him chafe and rub against his bare skin, scraping him raw, but he doesn't even feel it.

"No," he barely gets out around the bile that rises in the back of his throat. 

"Oh, yes," Matthew grins, drinking in Malcolm's fear as it floods the room. It should be suffocating. As an Alpha, Matthew's protective instincts should be triggered by Malcolm's pheromones. Instead, that biological instinct is twisted and perverted into something that makes Matthew want to cause more pain, to invoke more terror.

Malcolm can barely get his mouth to form the words, has trouble sucking enough air into his lungs to push them out, but he somehow manages to whisper, "You said if JT—" he swallows hard, unable to continue the thought. "You said you wouldn't."

"I did, didn't I?" Matthew says, tapping the barrel of the gun against his chin in contemplation and Malcolm holds his breath, hoping against hope that Matthew will spare him. "I lied."

The tears begin to fall as soon as the words leave Matthew's lips, and Malcolm starts to thrash against the chair, fighting to get free with every ounce of strength he possesses. The ropes slice into his skin, his shoulders pop and pull at the strain, and all he manages to do is make Matthew hard where he stands, watching, grinning ear to ear as Malcolm struggles for freedom.

"Jesus, Malcolm," Matthew says, leaning back against the table and pressing the heel of his hand against the bulge in his pants. "You're making this so fucking good for me."

Malcolm fights until he can't fight anymore, his strength draining away along with any hope he may have been harbouring about getting free. He drops his head to his hands, tears mixing with the blood that's dripping down his wrists as he whispers, "Please don't do this."

Matthew groans at Malcolm's broken plea and Malcolm can feel the Alpha's eyes raking over his bound body almost as if he's physically touching him. As much as he wants to stay hidden from everything, to pretend he's anywhere but where he is, when he finally hears Matthew begin to move, he raises his head to see what the man is doing. There's a box of ammo for the shotgun sitting on the table, and Matthew is fingering a cartridge as Malcolm looks up. Malcolm watches with growing unease as Matthew slips two rounds into the pocket of his pants.

"I know, I know," Matthew says, slinging the gun against his shoulder and narrowing his eyes on Malcolm's trembling form, "it's a bit of overkill. I mean, if I decide to pull the trigger while this is inside of you, one shot is going to be more than enough. But I've always believed it's best to be overprepared, and it's served me well in life so far." Matthew stalks forward and squats down in front of Malcolm, planting the butt of the gun on the floor and holding the barrel in front of him so Malcolm has a clear view of the weapon. "So now, if I decided to pump you full of lead, I've got two extra rounds to do it with."

Malcolm shakes his head in a silent plea, but the words are trapped in his chest, his futile pleas rendered useless by the fear that the image inspires. Matthew doesn't look away for a second, soaking up every ounce of Malcolm's terror that he can. It's only once he becomes impatient to cause Malcolm pain, rather than just inspire fear, that he pushes back up to his feet, casually swinging the shotgun as he walks behind Malcolm. 

"You'll have to thank the good detective later for getting you open and ready. I imagine this might hurt otherwise."

It's all the warning he gets.

Matthew rams the barrel of the shotgun inside of him. Hard. The scream that's ripped from Malcolm echoes through the room as the metal scrapes and tears along his inner walls as Matthew thrusts the gun three times in quick succession. By the third pump into his body he can feel the blood trickle out of him and drip down his thigh, fever hot against his chilled skin. Thankfully the blood seems to be a red flag for Matthew, and the next thrust is slightly less forceful, not that it makes it hurt any less. 

"Hmm," Matthew says, pumping slower, "Maybe we need to slow this down. Let you really _feel_ it."

Malcolm knows Matthew isn't easing up because of his shattered sobs. He just doesn't want to cause internal injuries so severe that Malcolm dies and ruins his fun. 

The metal of the barrel is cold and unyielding as Matthew plunges it in and out of his bleeding hole, shoving it far enough that the magazine cap slams up against his taint with every thrust, leaving Malcolm choking on his cries for the man to stop. 

"No need to be so dramatic," Matthew laughs gleefully. "You were made for this, Omega."

The arousal that Malcolm's agony and terror inspires in Matthew is so acute it's nearly suffocating as it fills the room, a tangible essence that invades Malcolm's throat with every breath and leaves him gagging at the rancid tang of the pheromones. The scent only becomes more noxious with every thrust of the shotgun, with every broken cry that spills from Malcolm's lips.

A howl rips from Malcolm at a particularly vicious thrust, answered by a distressed groan from JT as he fights the undercurrent of sedation that's incapacitating him. Malcolm's anguish floods from him so strongly that the powerful sedatives aren't quite enough to fully paralyze his protective instincts, especially when a member of his pack is in danger. 

Even through the unremitting pain and the fear that the gun could go off at any moment, sending metal pellets tearing through his body from the inside out, Malcolm still senses JT's distress. He looks over through the tears that are streaming down his face to find JT struggling against his bonds, eyes still closed but features contorted into an expression of pure desperation as he fights to help the Omega in need.

Malcolm bites down hard on his lip, silencing his cries in hopes that JT will settle if he no longer hears signs of Malcolm's pain. There's nothing he can do about the pheromones he's sure he's emitting, but he's willing to try anything to ease that look on JT's face. 

It doesn't last.

"You know, I just had a thought," Matthew says conversationally, never slowing in his movements, "last time I fired this — you know, when I shot the red-head in the gut and watched him bleed out, slowly and painfully, right here on this floor — I neglected to eject and reload."

Matthew pulls the shotgun out enough so that just the tip is nestled inside of him then pumps the handgrip, ejecting the spent casing from the gun — the metal shell falling to the concrete floor with a deceptively harmless tinkle — and chambering the next round. The unmistakable mechanistic sound when the action runs forward and then snaps back fills Malcolm with a damn near primal fear, adrenaline flooding into his system, speeding his breathing and making his heart beat so hard that he's sure it's going to shatter his ribs.

Matthew groans, whether from the sound of the shotgun pumping or Malcolm's overwhelming terror, Malcolm isn't sure, but Matthew's arousal wraps around Malcolm like a blanket, thick and stifling and weighing him down. He can't escape and he can't breathe and as Matthew begins to fuck the gun into his body again. The powerlessness is crushing.

An animalistic howl tears from his throat. 

Breathy with lust, Matthew practically moans, "Such a good little Omega," before fucking him harder with the shotgun, trying to draw more of the distressed sounds from him.

\---

NOW

Malcolm's sleep, ever since he was a ten-year-old boy, has been haunted by the ghosts of his father's making. Visions of the Girl in the Box, of being chloroformed by Martin, of the ill-fated camping trip with John Watkins — these and so many other memories crowd his mind at night, making sleep next to impossible.

After John abducted him, he had extra fuel for his nightmares for weeks afterwards, leaving him so exhausted and broken that, even when he was awake, spectres of death followed him about, refusing to let him be.

After Matthew Vaughn, it was worse.

The first month, he was a disaster — jumping at shadows, suffering from severe hallucinations when awake and horrifying nightmares when he was asleep. Gil and Jessica took turns staying with him in the beginning as he refused to stay at the hospital to recover once he was able to get out of bed and move about on his own, and he could see the fear in their eyes every time they had to wake him from the hell he was trapped in. Could see the conflicted emotions that consumed them both as they considered whether it would be best to admit him for psychiatric care when the hallucinations left him curled up and crying in the corner when only moments before, they'd been having a game of chess or discussing the latest gala gossip. 

But he'd survived the worst of it, and after a couple of months, the nightmares had become less frequent, if no less horrifying. The incident with Matthew became one of many nightmares on standard rotation, something with which Malcolm was, unfortunately, well accustomed to dealing.

Seeing JT after all these months, combined with the scent memories triggered by his smell, it's really no surprise when the nightmare takes hold — at least, not to him. 

He screams and struggles against the imaginary bonds that are holding him down, reliving the memories of that night.

"Bright?"

Feeling Matthew's arms wrap around him and yank him from JT's nearly lifeless body.

"Bright!"

The terror that left him frozen as the loaded shotgun breached his body.

"Malcolm, please. Wake up."

He wakes with a gasp, eyes shooting open to find JT looming over him with a firm grip on his arms, fear and worry etched in every line on his face. Tally is on the sofa next to him, hands covering her mouth as silent tears roll down her cheeks.

It takes a second for JT to let go and back away, but Malcolm notices the tremor that's running through the Alpha's body as he backs away, running a hand over the his face as he walks as far as the edge of the room, where Malcolm can see the rise and fall of his back as forces himself to take a few deep breaths. When Malcolm looks back to Tally, she launches herself against him, pulling him into a crushing hug and crying softly into the crook of his neck.

He brings shaky arms up to wrap around her, adrenaline still pumping through his veins from the nightmare that he can hardly even recall, fading away faster than hot breath on glass and leaving him with a vague feeling of dread but no real memory of why he feels that way. He knows it was about Matthew, but the specifics elude him and, frankly, he doesn't want to try that hard to remember what the dream was about.

Tally's scent does wonders to calm his racing heart and even out his breathing, feelings of safety and family washing over him and helping him to settle, even as her distress makes his heart clench painfully.

"It's okay," Malcolm whispers against her hair.

She chuckles wetly, sniffling as she pulls away. "I'm supposed to be saying that to you, not the other way around."

"I'm fine." It's an automatic response, one the Tarmels have heard dozens of times and that neither of them ever take at face value. Tally arches an eyebrow and levels a disbelieving look at him, the sting of it lessened by the glistening tears that are still pooling in her eyes. "I'll be fine," he corrects, "but I completely understand if you don't want me staying here tonight. I don't exactly make a good houseguest at the best of times." He leaves it unsaid that this is not the best of times, knowing that JT and Tally will understand.

"Hush," Tally scolds him, "a few nightmares are not going to scare us off."

But looking at JT, who still hasn't turned back to face them, he's not so sure that's true. She follows his gaze to her husband and he watches the sadness crease her features as she takes in his defeated posture, head hung low and buried in one hand, shoulders slumped forward as he fights to keep his cool. She gives Malcolm's arm a light squeeze and a smile that says everything is going to be okay, but he can't shake the feeling that he's already ruined what was supposed to be the first night in months that had the potential to be happy.

"Do you mind giving us a minute?" she whispers to Malcolm.

He nods and figures he can use the time to grab his bags from Aaliyah's room. This whole thing was definitely a mistake, he realizes, and he intends to remedy it.

With a forced smile, he gets to his feet and makes his way down the hall to the bedroom. Just before he closes the door behind him, he hears the soft tones of Tally's voice floating from the living room, full of love and worry and a warmth that Malcolm can feel in his soul. 

The door closes with a quiet click, giving the Tarmels the privacy they deserve. He knows there are things they need to discuss that would be better expressed without him there to intrude, to sway their opinions. He wants to ensure that, whatever conclusions they come to, that he's not pushing them into something they don't want.

With a quiet sigh, he turns to face Aaliyah's room, leaning back against the door as he takes in the familiar room with a smile. He and JT had painted the room back when Tally was pregnant, shortly after they found out they were expecting a girl. Malcolm had offered to have the room professionally decorated, but JT insisted that his baby girl's bedroom was going to be decorated by people who loved her and not some interior designer. The fact that he'd asked if Malcolm wanted to help had been the first time Malcolm truly realized that JT considered him as more than a colleague or his wife's unlikely friend; that was the day Malcolm first felt like family.

After days of lively debate, with upwards of a hundred paint swatches taped to the walls, JT and Malcolm set themselves up in the room with paint rollers, trays, and a can of Silver Peony paint. Much to Tally's amusement, they'd ended up deciding on the colour she'd picked in the first place, the pale purple shade a calming and welcoming colour for their eagerly anticipated family addition. JT insisted Tally spend the weekend with her sister to avoid the paint fumes, assuring her that he and Malcolm had everything under control and there would be a fully finished nursery by the time she came home.

Malcolm fell in love with JT that weekend.

He knew nothing would ever come of it. Even if JT had ever expressed even a modicum of interest in him, he'd never do anything to hurt Tally. But the feelings never did fade away, only growing stronger as he spent more and more time with the multifaceted Alpha.

As he looks at the room that he helped to create — the only time in his life he'd done such a thing — he's flooded with those warm memories. He walks over to Aaliyah's bed, a crisp white traditional style crib with a French country design that he'd bought for the couple as a baby shower present. JT had been hesitant about accepting something so extravagant, but Tally had fallen in love with it immediately and that was that. He runs his hand over the railing as he thinks of all the times he's laid the tiny Beta in this crib; nights when he's babysat so JT and Tally can have an evening alone, afternoons when Aaliyah has tired out from keeping up with Malcolm's never ending energy.

For the first time, he realizes that he's going to get to do that for his own child soon. His mind hasn't really processed the fact that, in about six months, he's going to have a baby to take care of. A life that he's entirely responsible for.

He sinks down on the folded-out sofa bed, doing his best to breathe through the panic that's threatening to knock him over. He can't do this. Not here, not now. If he's going to break down, it will be in the privacy of his own damn apartment, not in his god daughter's room while his best friend and the father of his unborn child discuss what to do about 'the situation' down the hall. 

He takes a deep breath and forces himself to his feet, pushing aside the anxiety that's wrapping its tendrils around his heart and lungs. His bags are set in the corner of the room and it's the work of a second to grab them and head to the door, fully intending to cut his losses and call the entire day a write off.

But as he walks down the hall, he overhears JT's broken voice, catching as he tries to talk around Tally's soothing words, "Three months, Tally! Three months he's been like that. Alone," his voice cracks on a near-sob and Malcolm can tell, without even seeing him, that JT is strung so tight he's close to snapping. "Three months that I should have been there for him, helping him through everything. What the fuck good am I as an Alpha if I abandon him to face this shit alone?"

"Hon, you didn't—"

"That's the problem! I didn't _do_ anything. I left him, Tally." The pain in JT's voice is worse than anything that Matthew did to him, and Malcolm drops his bag and rushes into the living room. 

He's not wrong about how wound up JT is. Even from across the room, he can see the tremor that's racking his rigid frame. Tally is standing in front of him, running her hands slowly up and down his chest, trying her hardest to soothe him, but judging by the heartbroken look on her face, she’s having no luck at all.

Malcolm doesn’t think twice. He marches across the room, catching Tally’s eye as he moves and he settles into the space where she'd been standing as she takes a few steps back and allows him to comfort JT in a way that they both know only he can. JT sucks in a surprised breath at Malcolm’s sudden presence in the room and tries to take a step back, but Malcolm stops him with firm hands on his muscular arms. JT could break free from the grip easily, if he wanted to, but he freezes at Malcolm’s touch and looks down at him with so much hurt in his eyes that Malcolm can feel it ripping through his body.

“You did _not_ abandon me," Malcolm says with so much conviction that JT is shocked from the guilt that’s clawing at him. “I stayed away. I hid this from you.”

Tally’s hand takes up residence on the small of his back, nudging him closer to JT and he doesn’t fight it, just moves in until they’re almost pressed together and releases a wave of calming pheromones that immediately drains a bit of the tension from the Alpha in front of him.

“I should have been there for you. With you,” JT forces out through clenched teeth.

“I should have let you,” Malcolm responds quietly, gazing up into JT’s eyes as they glisten with tears that he can’t seem to allow himself to shed. “I’m letting you now.”

Tally’s hand is still urging him closer to JT, and he suddenly understands what she’s asking of him. He allows his eyes to stray from JT’s for just a moment, the question clear in every line on his face. She smiles at him, small but genuine, and he can tell that she’s well and truly accepting of the idea of Malcolm kissing her husband.

He needs more information. They need to talk about this. But the hurt is rolling off of JT so powerfully that he takes her nod of encouragement as permission enough and turns back to JT, finding him watching the exchange with a raised eyebrow, and Malcolm decides to give in to what his body and soul are screaming at him to do. He leans forward, pressing himself onto tip toes as he slides one hand from JT’s arm to the back of his neck, waiting for JT to close the last few inches between them, making sure that he doesn't object to where this is headed.

Their lips meet for the first time and, for Malcolm, it’s like fireworks. He’s been dreaming about this for so long that the reality of it takes several seconds to seep into his mind, and when it does, he lets out a purr of contentment from deep in his chest, so pervasive that his entire body vibrates with the sound.

JT’s arms wrap around him, one at the small of his back just below Tally’s hand and the other buried in his hair at the back of his head, pulling him closer as their lips slide together. Malcolm is distantly aware of Tally moving from behind Malcolm to their sides, and his suspicions that her other hand is coaxing JT further into the kiss are confirmed when his tongue darts out to swipe over the seam of Malcolm’s lips. Soon, their tongues are tangling together in a frantic dance.

Malcolm's heart beats a staccato rhythm in his chest as their lips move together; the kiss is so much better than anything he could have imagined. He lets himself get lost in the feelings that are spreading through his body like wildfire — the lust and love and the sense of security that he thought he may never feel again. 

JT's grip on him tightens as the kiss turns deeper, tugging him up against his firm body, but the sensation of Tally's hand slipping from his back pulls him from the fog of endorphins long enough to realize that he's kissing his best friend's husband. He jerks back with enough force that JT lets him go with a surprised grunt and holds his hands up at shoulder height, clearly expressing that he's no threat.

"Sorry," Malcolm breathes out, trying and failing to calm his rapid heartbeat, his breath coming in small gasps as lust and shock collide deep inside of him. He looks from JT to Tally, expecting to see anger or disappointment, but she looks back at him with a soft smile and steps forward, sliding her hand into his.

"Malcolm, it's fine. It's more than fine, really," she assures him and JT both. The Alpha is looking nearly as confused as Malcolm himself feels. "I think, maybe, we should have that talk now," she adds, looking between the two men with a patient look that says that she not only understands their confusion, but also finds it adorable. She takes both of them by the hand and leads them to the sofa, then settles herself on the edge of the coffee table in front of them where she can easily look between them.

It's not that Malcolm doesn't already understand what Tally is suggesting, it's just that he can't seem to actually wrap his mind around it. Ever since JT showed up at the loft, his world has felt like it's tilted on its axis, leaving him completely off balance and struggling just to keep upright. He's not sure how Tally can remain so calm and composed about all of this; he's at least had a couple of weeks to come to terms with the fact that he's pregnant (though if he's honest with himself, he really hasn't come to terms with it at all), for her, it's entirely new information. And yet, somehow, she seems to have squared away and accepted everything that's happened.

"I'll be honest, I'm not really sure how to do this," Tally chuckles, but Malcolm can sense that there are no nerves behind the laughter, just a genuine excitement about charting a new course. "I suppose it's probably just best if we lay all our cards on the table?"

"What cards?" JT asks, confusion still clear in every aspect of his bearing. "Hon, what are you saying? What was _that_?" His hand sweeps out to where they had been standing, kissing, only seconds ago.

"Honey, I've known how you feel about each other for a long time," she says, holding up her hands to stop the objections that form on both men's lips at the statement, "and it's fine. It's always been fine. But I didn't think either one of you was ready to actually let your relationship progress into anything beyond friendship."

Malcolm is reeling. He's been putting in a concerted effort to hide his feelings for JT for years, _especially_ around Tally. To hear that she not only knew about his feelings for her husband but also accepted them is too much to process all at once.

"Sweetie," Tally laughs lightly, taking one of Malcolm's hands between both of hers, "subtlety has never exactly been your strong suit."

JT snorts his agreement, breaking the tension that's settled thick in the air. Malcolm looks over, affronted, but Tally has already turned her attention to her husband.

"And you," Tally says with a twinkle in her eye that wipes the smirk from JT's face. "It took me longer to see it in you, but once I did, I finally noticed the way your scent changes every time he's around. This isn't just some crush. You love him."

Malcolm's jaw drops as his eyes shoot back to Tally at the entirely unexpected — and obviously incorrect — statement, ready to dispute the idea that JT loves him, or feels anything for him beyond a very close friendship. But then he sees the sincerity in her eyes as she looks to her Alpha, and his gaze slowly travels back to JT.

There are so many emotions flitting across JT's face that, even with all of Malcolm's facial profiling training, he's having trouble keeping up with the rapidly changing expressions. There's still some confusion there, but it's quickly being overshadowed by fear, desperation, anxiety, and countless other feelings that Malcolm can't quite pinpoint, though he can easily tell that none of them are good.

It surprises him just how much that _hurts_.

"Hey, stop," JT says quietly, reaching out to lay a tentative hand on Malcolm's arm. 

And of course JT would immediately pick up on the swift and bitter shift in his pheromones at the sudden feeling of rejection, but before Malcolm can even attempt to explain, JT presses on.

"It's not that—" JT pauses and glances over to Tally, caught between comforting and explaining himself, his need to protect them both causing him to hesitate. "Hon, I would never—"

"JT," Tally interrupts, "Darling, I love you. And I know you would never do anything to hurt me or jeopardize our marriage. I also know that you love Malcolm. And I'm telling you that that's okay."

She waits patiently for her words to sink in, while Malcolm waits with bated breath for JT to confirm or deny the observation that he's in love with Malcolm. 

He's not actually sure which outcome he's hoping for. 

His treacherous heart, of course, wants nothing more than to hear that it's true; that JT feels for him the same way he's felt for the Alpha all this time. But his brain knows better — knows not to get his hopes up and knows that it's a complicated situation that's likely to end up in heartbreak for his best friend, the man he's in love with, or himself. Or perhaps all three of them.

"I made a vow." It's like the words are ripped from JT against his will, and suddenly Malcolm can put his finger on some of those emotions that were clouding JT's features. He's angry with himself for betraying Tally, if not in his actions than at least by how he feels. 

Malcolm's world spins at the implication. 

"We promised to love and honour one another," Tally says, bringing one of her hands up to cup JT's face while keeping a firm hold of Malcolm's with the other. "We never promised to be monogamous."

Malcolm knows damn well that he's as confused as JT appears and needs some clarification before this conversation goes any further.

"Do you—" Malcolm starts and cuts himself off before trying again. "Are you saying you want us…" he gestures between the three of them, but is cut off by a surprised peal of laughter.

"Oh lord, no!" Tally gives Malcolm's hand a squeeze to let him know that everything is alright before adding, "Sweetie, I love you. But not like that."

Malcolm huffs out a breath, some of the tension draining from his body at Tally's clear amusement.

"No. What I'm suggesting is that JT and I continue on like we always have, but that you two start seeing one another, too," Tally clarifies. "I know that this is a lot to consider and I know you both well enough to expect that you need some time to turn this over in those overactive brains of yours."

JT sits in stony silence, his face unreadable, until he pushes to his feet without a word and makes his way down the hall to the bathroom, the quiet click of the door closing behind him sounding excruciatingly loud to Malcolm. 

"Maybe I should leave?" Malcolm says, half statement, half question. He's not sure what exactly he's supposed to do now, but the last thing he wants is to step on JT's toes. The Alpha clearly needs some time to think through what Tally is suggesting, and frankly, so does Malcolm.

"Not a chance," Tally says simply, giving Malcolm's leg a pat. "But if you want to cue up the next movie, that'd be great. I'll go make some popcorn." She pushes to her feet lightly, like she doesn't have a care in the world, and heads to the kitchen, the sound of an air popper whirring to life drifting to the living room only a minute later.

Following instructions, Malcolm picks up the remote and begins flipping through the movies on offer, but he honestly isn't even seeing the screen in front of him. He can't allow himself to consider what Tally is proposing, not yet, but there's no ignoring the fact that JT has feelings for him. He may not have said as much out loud, but his silence spoke volumes. Though Malcolm has a hard time believing that JT loves him, he can't deny that there are obviously some sort of feelings for him buried deep in the Alpha. 

Malcolm gets so lost in his own head, trying to reconcile how he feels about this new information, that he doesn't even notice Tally coming back in the room until she's thrusting a bowl of hot, buttery popcorn into his hands and dropping down on the couch beside him.

"What did you decide?" she asks, tossing a few pieces of popcorn into her mouth. At Malcolm's look of wide-eyed fear, she chuckles and says, "The movie, Malcolm. What did you decide to watch next?"

"Oh," he says, relieved that she wasn't just asking for a decision on the whole dating-her-husband thing. He looks up and finds the cursor on another Marvel movie and figures it's as good as any, and gestures to the screen in question.

"Excellent choice," she smiles and shimmies herself into the couch cushions to get comfortable. "Start it up. JT's already seen it, so he'll be fine coming in part way through."

Malcolm glances down the hall to where he can just make out the closed bathroom door. It might as well be a fortified, six inch steel blast door for all that Malcolm feels cut off from the man behind it.

"He'll be fine," Tally says, tracking his gaze. "My husband is an amazing person and the best Alpha I could ever ask for, but that man can be sorely lacking in emotional intelligence. He'll come out when he's good and ready."

It doesn't particularly make him feel any better, but there's not much he can do besides hope that Tally is right. With a resigned sigh, he settles himself back on the couch and doesn't even bat an eye when Tally links her arm in his. It feels so much like it did before everything happened, back when Malcolm would keep Tally company if JT was working late on a case that Malcolm hadn't been asked to consult on, that Malcolm eventually finds himself leaning into the cushions. 

Even still, his eyes occasionally travel down the hall to the securely fastened door. Tally notices, of course, but doesn't comment, and Malcolm is grateful, now more than ever, for her stalwart presence in his life. 

He doesn't know how long they sit there, the movie droning on in front of him while he's lost in the endless series of what-ifs swirling around in his mind. The noise of the movie doesn't even register with him, but the nearly inaudible click of the bathroom lock is like a bomb going off and his head shoots over hard enough to make his neck spasm.

JT offers him a small, tentative smile as he makes his way back into the room, and it's only as the tension drains from his muscles that he realizes how strained he really was. Before JT has a chance to sit, Tally releases Malcolm's arm and slides over to the other end of the couch, leaving the spot in the middle ready for JT, which he immediately moves to occupy.

The minute JT is settled, Tally slips her arm around his and takes hold of his hand, their joined hands coming to rest naturally on JT's thigh as she leans into his body, dropping a small kiss on his shoulder before resting her head against him and focusing on the movie. 

Malcolm is slowly resigning himself to the possibility that they're going to pretend that their earlier conversation never happened when JT hesitantly reaches out and slides his hand into Malcolm's, intertwining their fingers, uncertainty evident in every line of his face.

Malcolm's heart breaks into a gallop in his chest and he feels his face flush with heat as JT's large hand envelops his. He stares down at their hands, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards without his say so. By the time he looks up to JT, there's an honest to god smile on his face and a lightness in his heart that he hasn't felt in far too long.

Tally is seemingly watching the movie, but Malcolm can see from the soft smile on her own face that she's perfectly aware of what's happening beside her. Aware of how Malcolm's entire world just shifted beneath his feet.

None of them says a word. There's really nothing that needs to be said. Not yet, anyways. Instead, they all relax into the plush couch, Tally and Malcolm both leaning in towards the Alpha in the middle like it's the most natural thing in the world. 

Maybe it is.

Malcolm is far too focused on the man next to him to pay any attention at all to the movie, and that's just fine by him. He's more than happy to just bask in the feeling of contentment that's humming through his body. It's such a novelty that he's only slightly embarrassed by the quiet purr that falls from his lips, and that embarrassment is wiped away completely as JT leans over and presses a tender kiss to his temple at the sound.

It's not until the movie is winding down that a small frown creases Malcolm's features, his free hand wandering to where he and JT are still clasping hands, fingers trailing gently over JT's digits.

Gil had kept him updated on JT's recovery while both men were in separate hospitals, so he knows that the man next to him has been given a clean bill of health, but guilt begins to creep into his stomach and claw its way into his chest for not having checked in on him in person.

The fact that Malcolm was still confined to the hospital well after JT had been released and couldn't have visited even if he'd wanted to is irrelevant and does nothing to quell the regret he's beginning to feel as his fingers slide over JT's knuckles.

"Hey," JT says quietly, clearly picking up on his distress. "I'm good, man. No need to worry." JT releases Malcolm's hand and flexes his hand into a fist before splaying his fingers wide, then repeating the actions. "Might have some stiffness when the weather turns cold, but otherwise, I'm good."

It's not that he doesn't believe JT.

It's just that the sounds of the Alpha's screams are suddenly echoing through Malcolm's head, and he doesn't know how to turn that off.


	5. Chapter 5

THEN

Malcolm doesn't even have the strength to put up a token fight as Matthew unties him and yanks him up only to spin him around and throw him back on the chair. He wails at the movement but nearly blacks out from the searing pain of hitting the metal seat. 

His abused hole hurts, but there's a sharp pain deep inside of him that's so much worse and he begins to wonder if he might not make it out of this room alive. He's well aware that he likely has internal injuries and will require medical intervention, and all he can do is hope that they can somehow get free before it's too late to repair the damage.

Matthew begins to tie him back down and Malcolm flinches as the rope scrapes over the already raw skin on his wrists, but he's beyond fatigued and Matthew has no problem holding him down. He ties his ankles next, and then the crease of his elbows, the rope scraping against the delicate skin there. Finally, he uses a length of rope to wrap around Malcolm's ribs and pull it tight around the chair, effectively securing his torso to the chair back and limiting his range of motion to practically nothing.

He struggles faintly whenever he can work up the energy, but it's useless and they both know it. Matthew could likely overpower him on a good day, but Malcolm is weakened from blood loss and pain, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated, and all it does is bring a smile to Matthew's face. 

"We're going to see just what makes soldier boy tick," Matthew says as he jerks on the ropes, making them so tight around Malcolm's torso that it's impossible to take a full breath. "But don't worry, you'll be part of the fun, too."

Once Matthew is happy with how uncomfortably secure Malcolm is, he turns his attention to JT. He pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks the cuffs from JT's wrists, bloody and mangled from jerking against the metal. Matthew doesn't seem to mind as he wraps his hands around JT's wrists and pulls, dragging the man across the floor to the cot in front of Malcolm. 

"Big fella, isn't he?" Matthew grunts as he crouches down and hauls JT up onto the cot frame, the metal creaking under his weight.

It worries Malcolm there's no response at all from JT as Matthew manhandles him onto the bed, but there's not a damn thing he can do to make sure he's alright. All he can do is sit and watch as Matthew cuffs JT's ankles and wrists to the frame of the bed, knowing that as soon as JT wakes up, things are going to get infinitely worse. He prays that JT stays unconscious long enough that Gil and Dani can somehow rescue them, knowing that Matthew will focus his attention on Malcolm for as long as JT is out. 

Even though, in his mind, he'd rather Matthew hurt him than JT, he can't help the way his body recoils as Matthew turns to face him once JT is secured to the bed. 

"Sorry Malcolm, you're going to have to sit tight for a little bit," Matthew says. "I need to go call the Lieutenant and let him know the rules of our little game. If luck is on my side, we'll have a full house here in no time."

Matthew crouches down in front of Malcolm, hands resting gently on his bare thighs, and Malcolm's breath hitches with how close his hand is to where Malcolm's cock is lying flaccid against his leg. 

"I don't know what I'm more excited for, Malcolm," Matthew says, running his hands soothingly over Malcolm's thighs in a cheap imitation of a lover's caress. "I've seen what a special relationship you have with Lieutenant Arroyo. It could be a Lifetime movie, really. Beat cop rescues a young boy from his serial killer father and then mentors him to follow his path into law enforcement. I've been watching you all for a while now. He looks at you like a son. It's going to kill him to watch what I do to you." Matthew pauses, letting the dread settle over Malcolm at the thought. "Hmm, by the looks of it, it might be more fun to hurt him. Oh, he really is like a father to you, isn't he?"

Malcolm does his level best to mask his reaction, to swallow down on the nausea that's churning and bubbling inside of him at the thought of this man getting his hands on Gil, but clearly he fails as Matthew drinks in his fear like the sweetest nectar.

"Yes, we'll have so many games to play once Gil is here. And then there's Dani. There are, oh, so many things that I'm going to do to Detective Powell once she joins us. I know how protective you all are of her. I'm going to fuck her so hard that she screams until she passes out. Until she's ripped open and bleeding out. And then I'll keep going just to watch you all fight to come rescue her."

Malcolm bites his tongue so hard his mouth floods with blood. Matthew wants a reaction and Malcolm is determined to deny him that. So he maintains eye contact, even if he can't help the tears that well in his eyes at the thought of what he'll do to Dani. He just has to pray that Gil and Dani are especially vigilant now that they know their killer is after the team.

"Anyhow, I'm off to make that call. Keep an eye on Detective Tarmel for me, would you?" The right hook that connects with Malcolm's cheekbone whips his head to the side and sprays the blood from his mouth into little droplets on the floor. The room spins around him for a moment and he closes his eyes against the pain, feeling his pulse beat just beneath his skin. "Maybe not that eye, though."

He doesn't bother to open his eyes, but he hears Matthew leave — the tap of his shoes on the concrete, the snap of a lock after he closes the door behind him.

Malcolm's always prided himself on being a survivor. On being someone who can endure the worst life has to offer and come out on the other side stronger for the experience. But right now, with pain radiating from every part of his body, inside and out, he wants to give in. He doesn't know exactly how long Matthew has had them, but he knows that he can't withstand much more.

But when he opens his eyes, though, his gaze lands on JT and he's reminded why he has to keep fighting. Whatever it takes, he intends to ensure that JT makes it home to Tally and Aaliyah, and he will suffer through whatever Matthew has in store for him to make that happen.

So he sits silently, swallowing down the sobs that build up in his chest, trying to focus on the good things in his life, the things worth fighting for. The things with living for.

Although Malcolm spends a good portion of the time he's left alone drifting in and out of consciousness, by the time Matthew returns a few hours later, he's determined to push through whatever the sadistic Alpha has planned for him. He doesn't look over when he hears the lock click, resolved to show Matthew as little fear as he can possibly manage. He hears the thump of something heavy — or rather, judging by the scuffing sounds behind him, multiple heavy things — being set on the table, but still he keeps his eyes resolutely forward. 

"Sorry for the delay," Matthew says, walking over to stand between Malcolm and JT, gaze raking over the two men where they're bound and entirely at his mercy. "Had to scout some things out. But I need your help now, and it's time for the good detective to wake up from his nap."

He pulls something from his pocket and holds it under JT's nose until JT rouses, coughing and jerking his head away from the noxious scent. Malcolm assumes it's some sort of ammonia inhalant and feels a spark of anger that Matthew won't even allow them the rest that unconsciousness would provide.

"Wakey, wakey, JT," Matthew says as he walks back to the table, "it's story time."

JT looks over to Malcolm, glassy eyes roaming over his body as he searches out additional injuries, his gaze lingering on the pool of blood on the seat between Malcolm's thighs with an anger that burns through the last of the sedative. When JT's eyes finally meet Malcolm's, he can tell the Alpha knows something is wrong, can feel the almost territorial response rolling off of him as the urge to protect the Omega takes over. It's obvious JT wants to check in, wants to know what the hell happened while he was unconscious, but JT's eyes dart to Matthew, and he understands JT doesn’t want to risk making things worse by drawing Matthew's attention back to Malcolm. 

Instead, the Alpha raises an eyebrow, silently asking how bad it is, asking if Malcolm is okay. While he feels bad for lying, Malcolm offers a terse nod, knowing the last thing JT needs is to be worrying about him. A profound dread is pooling in his belly, suspecting Matthew's attentions are about to shift to JT. He thinks that may be worse than anything that's been done to him so far.

"I need some information that I believe you possess, JT," Matthew says, stepping forward and crouching in front of JT, tapping him on the cheek hard enough to fall on the wrong side of playful, likely trying to shake the last dredges of the sedative from his system. "The lovely Detective Powell has an alarm system installed in her apartment. Ever vigilant, that one," Matthew turns his head to smile at Malcolm, but the gleam in his eye is that of a predator and Malcolm feels a sense of determination all the way down to the marrow of his bones that, no matter what, he can't allow Matthew to get a hold of Dani.

A quick look to JT tells him that the Alpha is on the same page and an unspoken pledge passes between them to withstand whatever Matthew dishes out if it means keeping Dani safe.

"My itinerary requires more time than her alarm system will grant us," Matthew licks his lips, his scent turning noxious as he envisions his plans for Dani. "And I know you have the code."

"Fuck you," JT says simply, looking at Matthew with immeasurable disgust.

"I guess we'll do this the hard way, then." Matthew pushes himself to his feet and skirts around Malcolm to the table behind him, trailing his hand threateningly over Malcolm's throat as he walks, making him jerk back in surprise. Matthew seems too preoccupied to take pleasure in the unintentional movement.

Malcolm can hear the slosh of liquid behind him and freezes as possibilities flicker through his mind, each one worse than the last. In front of him, JT is straining his neck to see around Malcolm, and though the Alpha has a stone cold facade hiding his true feelings, Malcolm can see in the way his lower eyelids are tense and his mouth is drawn that JT is just as afraid as he is.

When Matthew finally makes his way back, the tap of his shoes making Malcolm's breath speed up in anticipation of pain, he's carrying two plastic one-gallon jugs and a towel, and Malcolm has to swallow down the bile that floods his mouth. 

"Funny story," Matthew says as he makes his way next to JT's head and sets the containers on the floor. "I was able to find out that, during one of your tours, you were held as a POW in an enemy encampment for 66 hours until you could be rescued, but, try as I might, I just can't find any information as to what happened in those hours."

Malcolm's head jerks up from the plastic jugs to JT's face, but the soldier in him is getting prepared, staring unblinking at the ceiling, clearly trying to mentally compose himself. Though proud of the service he provided for his country, JT has always been tight-lipped about his time in Afghanistan. Malcolm didn't even know the man had been taken prisoner when he served. 

"Anyhow, I figured there's a pretty good possibility that you were interrogated, and figured, why not try and recreate those memories for you," Matthew says, excitement building with every second that passes, as the tension in the room becomes nearly palpable. "I'm open to requests, if there's something specific you want to try. No? Well then."

JT barely has a chance to take a deep breath before Matthew plants a knee hard on his chest and presses the towel over JT's face, grabbing one of the jugs and tilting it in a steady flow over the struggling Alpha's face.

Malcolm closes his eyes against the sight of JT being essentially drowned in front of him, but the horrifying sounds still assault his ears; the water glugging from the container, the splash as it hits the towel and gushes to the floor, JT's choking gasps for air, the sound of his restraints clanking against the frame of the cot as he struggles to get free.

He opens his eyes as JT's rattling wheeze suddenly becomes more desperate, and Malcolm can't help the plea that escapes his lips as he watches Matthew hold JT's face in a vice-like grip, using all of his body weight to keep JT from bucking him off.

"Stop! Please!" Malcolm shouts, trying his damndest to throw himself from the chair, but he only succeeds in causing the rough rope to chafe against his exposed skin. 

Matthew halts the flow of water but doesn't remove the saturated cloth from JT's face, keeping it pressed over his nose and mouth as he turns his attention to Malcolm.

"Feel like sharing that alarm code?" Matthew asks, breathless with exertion and exhilaration. 

Malcolm's mouth slams shut as his heart beats wildly in his chest, hating that he has to choose between helping JT and sparing Dani, knowing that it's not really a choice at all. He'll happily die before he does anything that helps Matthew capture Gil or Dani, but sacrificing JT is a harder pill to swallow.

"Hmm, not ready to talk yet?" Matthew says, his patronizing tone grating against Malcolm's skin more painfully than the ropes that are scraping him raw. "How about you?"

Matthew pulls the cloth back long enough for JT to suck in a rasping breath, choking on the air as it carves its way into his lungs. It takes nearly a full minute until JT stops coughing long enough to hack out a painful sounding, "Bite me."

"Tempting," Matthew says, digging his knee even harder into JT's chest. "But first…" he drops the towel back over his face and let's the water flow again, the jerking of JT's chest as it spasms against the lack of oxygen nearly knocking Matthew off at one point, but he doubles down and dumps the last of the water over JT's face.

Malcolm draws in an uneasy breath, praying for a break, but Matthew merely leans over to pick up the second gallon of water.

And then he does it all over again.

The only breaks he takes are to switch out the empty containers for full ones, and at first, Matthew uses the time to ask JT and Malcolm if they've decided to share the alarm code. Malcolm stops responding soon enough, the sorrow and fear rendering him speechless. Eventually even JT's firm denials give way to silence as he loses the energy to form any words. The coughing fits take longer to subside with each break, and Malcolm can hear how difficult it is for JT to breathe, even once the cloth is removed from his face.

With every gallon of water, JT's struggles grow weaker as his bloodstream is depleted of oxygen, until he barely has the energy to fight against Matthew at all. As the pull on JT's restraints falls weaker and weaker, Malcolm's heart beats faster and faster, knowing JT's strength is fading away with every session. He doesn't even hear his own pleas for Matthew to stop, though he knows he's begging by how raw his throat feels. It makes no difference to Matthew, who continues his assault, not even bothering to ask for the code in the small breaks he allows as the night wears on.

Eventually, when JT is barely conscious and can no longer feed Matthew's need for creating fear and pain, when the floor beneath them is soaking wet and puddling with water, Matthew finally stops. 

Malcolm's head drops, tears of relief flowing freely when he realizes that JT isn't going to drown. At least, not yet. 

Matthew makes a show of stretching out his cramped muscles, looking like he just completed a very satisfying workout as he says, "Well. That was better than I expected. We'll definitely be doing that again."

Malcolm's head shoots up at that, fear and anger shining bright in his eyes as he bites back the urge to scream at the man. He's honestly not sure how he's supposed to be able to sit through that again.

"Oh don't worry, Malcolm. You can play, too. Next time I'll bring enough water to do you both." Matthew picks up the sopping wet towel and rings it out over JT's face, causing the man to groan and turn his head away. Even facing the wall beside him, though, Malcolm can hear the wheezing pull of every breath.

He knows it's futile, but Malcolm is hoping that Matthew will leave them for a while. Will give JT a chance to rest and recuperate before he starts on whatever torture he has planned next.

Matthew shatters that hope immediately.

"Now, about that code," Matthew cracks his knuckles and then stops to look at his fingers with a manic grin that makes Malcolm's heart stutter in his chest. Without another word, he perches himself on the side of the cot, just below where JT's hand is cuffed to the edge. "Last chance, Detective."

Malcolm is fairly certain that JT hasn't heard the words, lost somewhere between reality and the pull of unconsciousness. The Alpha doesn't even respond.

Until Matthew reaches forward and takes hold of JT's ring finger in one hand and wrist in the other, jerking the finger back with enough force that Malcolm can hear the pop of bone from where he's sitting, echoing in his head until JT's scream drowns it out.

"I suppose that wasn't really your last chance," Matthew licks his lips as he looks down at JT's hand. "You've got nine more tries, JT. What's the code?"

Matthew doesn't even wait for JT to respond before he grasps his middle finger and slams it back against his hand.

"Eight left!" Matthew yells over JT's shout.

Malcolm barely has time to turn his head before he throws up once again.

\---

NOW 

"Hey, come here," JT whispers, pulling Malcolm into a sturdy hug, instantly quelling the tremor that had begun to rock his body as memories of that night flood his mind — being forced to watch as JT suffocates and sputters, gasping for air that Matthew so cruelly denies; watching helplessly as JT attempts to mask the pain, Malcolm's stomach churning with every crack of bone and every bitten off shout of pain.

Side by side on the couch, their positions aren't well suited for hugging, but Malcolm finds he couldn't care less as he buries his face in the Alpha's neck and breathes deeply, allowing the pheromones to comfort and steady him. 

It's only hitting him now that he's been existing in a sort of limbo these last three months, having never been granted the physical proof to truly know that JT was safe and well. His mind, therefore, has been trapped in an infinite loop of torture and pain, with no clear ending to complete the cycle. It's his own fault, of course, having pushed JT away as he did, but being wrapped up in JT's powerful arms like this is exactly what he didn't know he was lacking and gives him what he's been desperately needing since that fateful night all those months ago.

Closure.

Malcolm sags against JT, the pent up agitation and emotional strain finally, _finally_ , releasing him from its grasp.

They're safe.

They're _all_ safe.

The sensation of a weight being lifted from his shoulders is so intense that it leaves him lightheaded and breathless, and he's especially grateful for JT's grip on him. He's not even sure how long it takes, but after a while, JT's voice starts to filter through the whirlwind of emotions and memories that are trying to wash him away, quiet reassurances and tender words that Malcolm is stunned to find are directed at him.

"It's okay, man. You're safe now. I've got you," JT murmurs, the words vibrating through JT's chest and into Malcolm's where they're pressed against each other, allowing Malcolm to center himself as he leans into the sensation.

JT makes no move to let go until Malcolm finally pulls himself back, and even then, one of his hands slides to the back of Malcolm's neck, unwilling to break the contact between them.

"You good?" JT asks, worry lining his face.

"Yeah," Malcolm says, blowing out a breath, "I'm good. Are you? Really?"

JT seems to think it through before he answers, which Malcolm fully appreciates. He knows just how easy it is to wave things off as 'fine' when reality is anything but. He mastered doing just that long ago.

"I'm better now that you're here." It's such a simple statement, but there's a deep vein of honesty running through the words, and Malcolm can't help but believe it to be true.

"Yeah. Me too," Malcolm smiles shyly at the man, soaking in the comfort that his touch provides. He lets his eyes drift closed, allows himself to bask in the security he feels being next to JT again, having the Alpha by his side to protect him. His body's been existing on high alert for the last few months, and as he finally allows the last of the fear to drain away, he realizes how exhausted he truly is. He actually finds it difficult to pry his eyes open when Tally's quiet voice comes from next to JT.

"Both of you are exhausted," she says, propping her head on JT’s shoulder and looking Malcolm in the eye. Why don't you go lay down a while?"

"Hon, it's the middle of the afternoon," JT says, but there's no real objection in the words. 

JT's thumb is stroking over Malcolm's neck in a soothing motion that makes it hard to keep his eyes open. He doesn't even care that it's the middle of the day; the thought of lying down for a little, especially if Tally is suggesting they lie down together, sounds absolutely amazing.

"JT," Tally whispers, but she's so close that Malcolm can't help but overhear, "he's ready to drop. Go take care of him."

It's all the nudge JT needs, apparently, because Malcolm finds himself being hauled to his feet and led down the hall towards Ali's room before he even really realizes they're moving, JT pulling his suitcases along once again.

"Do you need help changing?" JT asks as he leads him into the bedroom with a strong arm wrapped around his waist.

"No." Malcolm, suddenly wide awake, just barely keeps himself from pulling away from the Alpha at the thought of JT seeing him undressed. It's bad enough that JT knows what must lie beneath his clothes, he sure as hell doesn't want to subject the man to seeing it. He can't even look at it himself. "I can manage."

JT's jaw clenches, but he merely nods and says, "I'll be back in a minute. Put on something comfortable to sleep in."

The door closes behind JT with a quiet snick and Malcolm hurries to his suitcase, rifling through his clothes for the sweats and long-sleeved t-shirt that he usually sleeps in. He makes quick work of stripping down and redressing, anxious to finish before JT gets back. He's laying his suit out over the crib railings when there's a light knock at the door.

"Come in," he says, turning to the door as JT pushes it open, walking into the room in a pair of navy blue pyjama pants and a snug t-shirt that hugs the Alpha's powerful frame, the cut of the sleeves emphasizing his muscular arms while his broad chest strains the fabric that covers it. Malcolm has trouble dragging his eyes away from the sight, arousal beginning to stir inside of him for the first time in months.

He forces his gaze away from the man, turning his back as he sucks in a steadying breath and grasps at the crib railing, white-knuckled and unrelenting, unsure how to feel about the way his body is reacting. He hasn't felt anything even close to aroused since Vaughn abducted them, hasn't jerked himself off even once. After months of feeling indifferent to the idea of sex at best, and downright panicked at worst, the desire that's burning low in his belly comes as yet another shock in a day full of bombshells.

"Bright?" JT asks, hesitating in the doorway. 

"I'm fine," he responds automatically, cringing at JT's huff of disbelief behind him.

For a big guy, JT is surprisingly light on his feet, his voice coming from closer than Malcolm is expecting when he speaks again.

"Is it okay if I touch you?" His voice is hushed and Malcolm hates the uncertainty he hears in it. 

He turns and faces the Alpha, allowing for no misunderstanding as he says, "Always."

The scent of patchouli and hot sand washes over him as JT bridges the small gap between them, sliding a hand around to his lower back and tugging him close, surreptitiously rubbing his face against Malcolm's skin as they embrace, scenting him. The action draws a small moan from Malcolm's lips, wanting nothing more than to be marked and claimed by the Alpha — to be able to call him _his_ Alpha — but he knows that can't happen.

At least not tonight.

The fact that there's even the possibility of it happening _someday_ , though, leaves him tingling from head to toe, and he's embarrassed to find himself growing hard where he's pressed up against JT's thigh. He starts to pull away, but JT stops him with a whispered, "Don't. It's fine."

And maybe it really is, Malcolm thinks to himself, picking up the heady notes of JT's own arousal as they remain wrapped in each other's arms. He lets his eyes drift shut as JT's lips drop to his neck, gentle kisses gliding along his skin, drawing out breathy moans as JT lingers over the bonding gland, swiping his tongue over the swath of skin where he would make his mark to claim Malcolm.

"Wanna make you mine," JT practically growls against Malcolm's neck, his grip on Malcolm tightening possessively in a way that makes all of Malcolm's blood rush south. 

"Yes," he breathes out, dropping his head to the side to bare his neck, wanting nothing more than to feel the Alpha's teeth break through the gland there.

"Soon," JT murmurs and latches his mouth over the area, sucking hard enough that Malcolm knows he'll have a bruise there for days, maybe even a week if he's lucky.

Malcolm whimpers at the promise, rutting against JT's thigh without thought as he searches for friction against his suddenly rock-hard cock. He knows JT won't mark him permanently, not yet, not until they've all sat down to talk without their emotions running quite so high, not until he knows all three of them are one hundred percent certain that it's what they want. But the bruise he's working into Malcolm's skin, _just there_ , is a claim in itself. Anyone who sees it will know that Malcolm belongs to someone, even if it's not quite official. Just the thought of walking around with the bruise visible for the world to see has him leaking in his sweats.

When JT finally releases the suction on his neck, he pauses to lick over the area to soothe the slight ache left behind but Malcolm is too far gone to even notice any pain.

"JT, please," he gasps, unsure what he's even asking for.

It doesn't matter, though, because his Alpha knows exactly what he needs.

JT walks Malcolm backwards until he's up against the wall, dropping his mouth to Malcolm's ear to lick along the shell, his voice deep and rumbling as he asks, "Will you let me take care of you, Bright?"

"Oh, God. Yes." Malcolm pants.

One of JT's hands threads into Malcolm's hair while the other drops to the waist of his sweatpants, tugging lightly to make his intention clear before he asks, "Yes?"

"Yes," Malcolm says, understanding JT's need for this to be expressly consensual after everything they've been through. 

JT's lips find Malcolm's at the same time his hand slides into Malcolm's sweats and wraps around his cock, and Malcolm's head is only prevented from slamming back against the wall by JT's hand fisted in his hair. The touch shoots right through his body but the moan never makes it past his lips as JT's tongue invades his mouth, sliding against his at the same pace as the hand that's working him so thoroughly.

He knows he's not going to last. He can't. He's so high strung and it's been so damn long since he's felt anything besides anxiety or crushing despair that the sudden rush of pleasure is completely overwhelming. It's only a matter of minutes before he's on the edge and ready to tip over and he tries to warn JT, but their tongues are tangled so perfectly that the words don't come, and soon he's shooting his load and groaning into JT's mouth, coming so hard that his vision whites out for a moment.

When he comes back to himself, JT's lips are distractedly pressing kisses along his jaw line while he uses baby wipes from the nearby change table to clean Malcolm up. He takes another minute to wrap his head around what just happened and by then, JT is tucking him away and moves to wrap an arm around Malcolm to lead him to the bed.

Malcolm goes without complaint. His entire body feels slack and languid and he's suddenly having trouble keeping his eyes open as all of those feel-good orgasm biochemicals course through his body for the first time in far too long. JT is heartbreakingly gentle as he lays Malcolm down on the bed and then crawls in beside him, tugging the blanket up to cover them both. 

Malcolm immediately rolls onto his side and tucks himself against JT's chest, instinctively seeking the warmth and protection of his Alpha. JT doesn't seem to mind in the slightest and wraps his arms around Malcolm, tugging him even closer and dropping a kiss to the top of his head.

"Do you want me to…" Malcolm murmurs, his hand sliding down to the waistband of JT's pants, the implication clear.

"Nah, I'm good. Go to sleep, Bright," JT says quietly as his fingers trail slowly up and down Malcolm's back.

The sensation combines with the feeling of relaxed bliss to pull Malcolm under, falling into a deep and healing sleep, wrapped in JT's arms.

It's almost four hours before the nightmares begin — the longest uninterrupted stretch of sleep he's had in three months. His initial whimpers are quiet enough that JT — sound asleep beside him — doesn't stir, but within minutes he's thrashing and screaming, clawing at his chest through his shirt, broken pleas of "stop" and "don't" interrupting the piercing cry that's torn from his lungs.

"Bright, wake up," JT calls out as he scrambles to grab hold of Malcolm's wrists to keep him from hurting himself, "you're safe, man. I've got you."

Malcolm's eyes shoot open, glassy and vacant, lost in the no-man's land between awake and asleep as he struggles to differentiate between then and now. The phantom pull of the knife over his skin feels so real, though, that his brain can't quite process that it's only a memory and nothing more. He continues to claw at his chest, trying to stop the pain, to stop the bleeding, to stop feeling anything at all.

With a sudden jerk, he breaks free of JT's grip and scuttles backwards until he hits the corner of the sofa bed and can't go any farther. He tears at his shirt to get to the wound, eventually just ripping the damn thing off and tossing it to the side as his hands search his chest, confused to find it clear of the blood that he was so sure was there.

"Bright," JT says calmly, kneeling on the bed a few feet away, hands raised to shoulder height to prove he's not a threat. "Bright, you're safe. You're at my house, and no one's gonna hurt you."

Malcolm blinks vacantly for a moment before the words settle in and he realizes that it was all just a dream, nodding slowly to let JT know that he's okay as he sucks in a shuddering breath to calm his racing heart.

He's so focused on quashing the panic that he doesn’t notice right away when JT's eyes drift to his chest. It's only as he hears the grind of JT's teeth and looks up to see the anger and sorrow that are pinching the man's features, that he realizes he tore his shirt off and bared the worst of his scars for JT's scrutiny.

All of the hope he'd been feeling earlier, about maybe having a life with the Alpha he's been in love with for so long, vanishes like morning mist in the sun. He can't expect JT to claim him as his own when his body is an unequivocal reminder of every horrible thing they went through.

The grief settles heavy on his shoulders, mourning the loss of a life he never even had. But then JT is there, warm hands cupping his face, gently encouraging him to look the Alpha in the eye through the blur of tears that are starting to spill.

"I'm sorry I couldn't stop him from hurting you," JT says and Malcolm can feel the regret in the words and the pungent turn of his scent, but before Malcolm can assure him that it wasn't his fault, JT presses on, "but this," JT lets go of his face with one hand to gesture to the expanse of scars littering his torso, "doesn't change how I feel about you. I love you, Bright. Nothing's gonna change that."

JT clearly senses his doubt, his hand dropping slowly to the worst of the scarring on the left side of Malcolm's chest, over his heart.

"All this is, Bright, is proof that you're a survivor." 

There's such conviction in the words that Malcolm almost believes them.

Almost.

\------

THEN

JT loses consciousness after his sixth finger is broken, which means Matthew loses interest in the Alpha.

The relief hits Malcolm so hard he weeps, his body trembling with pent up emotion.

Being sodomized with the shotgun was the most painful thing he's experienced in his life, but watching Matthew torture JT was the worst. Being forced to sit there as the man he loves is waterboarded and broken is possibly the most extreme torture that Matthew could have devised for him.

The problem is, Matthew _knows_ that now. He knows exactly how much it hurt Malcolm to watch JT writhe in pain. And Malcolm has no doubt that he's going to use that knowledge to his advantage. 

He's never felt so hopeless.

There's _nothing_ he can do. His Quantico training, his years with the NYPD, even the psychological manipulation he learned first hand from Martin — none of it matters. Matthew can't be reasoned with. There's no negotiating their release or bargaining for more humane treatment. Matthew is going to continue to hurt them until he kills them, whether it's accidental as they succumb to their injuries or when he tires of his broken toys and decides to end things.

The despair that settles over him is crushing. 

He just wants it to be over. 

"Oh Malcolm," Matthew coos, moving to stand in front of him, "I didn't expect you to break this easily." There's a gleam in the Alpha's eyes that betrays just how pleased he is about Malcolm's mental anguish. He brings a hand to Malcolm's jaw and tips his face up, soaking in the defeat that's seeping from every pore of Malcolm's body. "God, you're perfect. I can't wait until Lieutenant Arroyo sees you like this. Breaking him will be so much easier with your help."

Malcolm doesn't even fight the tears that stream down his face. He's too tired to try anymore. He closes his eyes and focuses on the warmth of the tears as they slide down his cheeks, trying to forget Matthew's presence in the room, trying to escape into his mind and lose himself somewhere far away from the hell he's currently living.

"Actually," Matthew says slowly, an idea forming as he speaks, "I bet you could help me lure him out."

When Matthew releases his jaw, Malcolm's head drops heavy to his chest, too exhausted to keep his head up. He wants the darkness to claim him like it has JT. He longs for the release that unconsciousness would provide but knows that Matthew will just keep dragging him back even if he finds it. The idea of this going on for days — watching as Matthew devises new and horrible ways to torture JT, helplessly sitting still as Matthew uses them both for his own sadistic pleasure — is more than he can bear.

The sobs that rack his body come fast and hard, making it impossible to suck in a deep breath. He thinks he might just suffocate on his grief, and, frankly, hopes he does. 

Instead, Matthew moves beside him and wraps one hand around his throat and grabs a fistful of his hair with the other, yanking back until Malcolm is facing the ceiling. Malcolm doesn't bother opening his eyes, but he cringes as he feels Matthew's tongue swipe from jaw to eyelash, licking up the stream of tears that lines his face.

"I can taste your fear, little Omega," Matthew whispers in his ear, so close that Malcolm can feel the man's lips as they brush over the shell of his ear. "It's beautiful."

Malcolm feels the world going fuzzy around him as Matthew continues to squeeze his throat and he's hopeful, for just a moment, that he's going to get some rest. But just as the blackness begins to descend, Matthew pulls both of his hands away and moves to the table behind him, leaving Malcolm gasping for breath as the promise of unconsciousness, of death, is cruelly snatched away from him.

Malcolm wearily opens his eyes as Matthew makes his way back from the table, going straight for JT. Malcolm barely has a chance to shout for him to stop before Matthew jams the knife he's holding into JT's thigh.

"Wake up!" Matthew screams, as he jerks the knife out. JT wakes with a shout of his own, his restraints rattling as his hands reach instinctively for his leg, only to be halted by the pull of the cuffs. "You're gonna want to watch this, Detective."

Matthew sets the bloody knife down on Malcolm's bare thigh before returning to the table, gathering supplies. Malcolm looks down at the blade — a whittling knife, if he's not mistaken — and swallows hard around the lump in his throat, watching JT's blood drip onto his leg, coating the hairs that cover his thigh.

He looks up to find JT clenching his jaw, preventing himself from crying out at the pain that is so clearly ripping through his body. Sensing Malcolm's gaze on him, JT looks over and Malcolm can see the strength that settles over the Alpha's face, determination shining strong as he prepares to fight for the broken Omega next to him.

"I can't," Malcolm whimpers, feeling like a failure for wanting to give up when JT is readying himself for battle. He drops his eyes back to the knife on his lap, unable to look JT in the eye any longer. As he stares at the blood-stained blade, though, visions of that long ago camping trip begin to float back into his mind, making it hard to focus. Hard to breathe.

"Bright, man. You need to hang in there," JT's voice, tight with worry and pain, cuts through the fog that's settling on him, pulling him back to the here and now. 

He's not sure if he's thankful for that, or not.

Before he has a chance to think on it any further, Matthew makes his way back to his side, and Malcolm can't stop the hysterical giggle that bubbles up from his chest as he notices the stencil and marker in the man's hand. 

Matthew arches a brow at the unexpected reaction, but he obviously picks up on the fear beneath the laughter, if the way his lips pull into a smile is any indication. He holds the stencils up and says, "I suppose I could freehand it, if you'd like, but at this point, I feel like it's a bit of a calling card."

Matthew drops down to his knees in front of Malcolm and pops the cap off the marker. Malcolm realizes the reason they hadn't picked up on the marker on the previous bodies is simply because it's a washable marker, water-soluble and likely to wash away with the blood that's going to flow over it.

Malcolm reins in the urge to plead for Matthew not to do this as the Alpha brings the stencil to his chest, settling the first letter on the right side of his chest, an inch or two below his collarbone. He takes his time, letting Malcolm's tension build with each stroke of the marker over his skin, knowing that the knife will be following the same path soon enough.

JT spends the entire time shouting and threatening, yanking at his restraints, even when it's obvious just how excruciating it is for his broken fingers. Matthew's smile just grows with every grunt from JT, with every wave of anger that rolls off of the restrained Alpha. By the time Matthew finishes, JT is furious and Malcolm has lost all of his fight. 

His mind begins to turn off, separating itself from his body in an effort to protect himself. Suddenly it feels like he's a spectator, watching from afar as Matthew tosses the stencil and marker to the ground and picks up the knife. Watching JT buck and shout as Matthew holds up the carving knife, coated and sticky with JT's blood. Watching Matthew toss a lecherous grin over his shoulder to JT just before he turns back to Malcolm and brings the tip of the blade to the top of the A on his chest.

He slams back into his body as Matthew presses the knife down, his skin dimpling in for just a second before the blade rips through. Matthew ensures the knife is nice and deep, embedded in the muscle beneath the layers of skin, before he starts to drag the blade down the left leg of the A, slowly, _so slowly_ , carving his message into Malcolm's body.

Malcolm's body jerks against ropes that are holding him down, trying to escape the onslaught of pain, but he only manages to draw the knife deeper into his chest.

"Uh, uh, uh, Malcolm," Matthew's grin is manic and terrifying for Malcolm to witness through the haze of tears that are spilling down his face. "You're going to want to stay nice and still for me here. You wouldn't want the knife to slip past your ribs and puncture your lungs or your heart, now, would you?"

Matthew pulls the knife out of Malcolm's skin and there's a fraction of a second of relief. A moment where Malcolm is thankful that there's only the throbbing pain of the open wound and not the sharp, unrelenting agony of the blade ripping through his chest.

The relief is short lived.

In the space of a breath, the knife is pushing back into the top of the gash and the pain shoots through him white hot and merciless, amplifying as Matthew drags it down the right leg of the letter. 

Malcolm screams until he runs out of air, feeling like his nerves are on fire. When Matthew reaches the bottom of the letter and pulls the knife out again, Malcolm sucks in a shuddering breath only for it to catch in his throat as Matthew immediately goes for the line connecting the two outer legs of the letter.

"So, Malcolm," Matthew asks, a deranged satisfaction underpinning the casual tone as he watches the blood stream in rivulets down Malcolm's chest. "Are we having fun yet?"

It feels like hours — perhaps it is — as Matthew painstakingly carves every single letter into Malcolm's chest, pausing only to grab a towel to roughly wipe away the blood as it obscures his guiding lines. He mostly talks to JT while he works, likely because Malcolm is too out of it to provide him with what he wants, beyond the screams and groans that break free of his lips. JT on the other hand, growls and shouts and nearly throws himself off the cot with every taunt that Matthew makes.

"Aren't you supposed to be protecting this Omega, Detective Tarmel?" Matthew says as he carves the F deep into Malcolm's pectoral. "Seems like you're doing a piss-poor job of it. Can you smell the hopelessness and anguish from over there? He fucking reeks of it from here."

"When I get out of these cuffs," JT growls, staring at the back of Matthew's head, "and I _will_ get out, I'm gonna fucking tear you limb from limb. Slowly. So you suffer more than any of your victims ever did."

Malcolm can tell he means it, too.

He ends up drifting in and out of consciousness for the last handful of letters. The blood loss and screaming leaves him light-headed, enough that he continuously slips away only to be roughly pulled back to awareness by the jerk of the knife.

He wants to stay in the darkness.

It feels like his chest is on fire by the time Matthew finishes the final letter, and he's so lost in the burn that he doesn't even realize at first that Matthew is done. It's not until Matthew is viciously scrubbing away the worst of the blood and what's left of the marker — and Malcolm lets loose an ear-piercing scream as the rough towel catches in his wounds — that he discovers that Matthew is finished.

"Okay," Matthew says as he presses the bloodied towel to Malcolm's chest, holding it firm in an effort to stem the bleeding. Malcolm's head rolls back at the pressure, grateful as the darkness claims him once again.

When he comes to, Matthew is standing halfway between JT and Malcolm, taking pictures on his phone. It takes all of his strength to drag his head up, and he's met with Matthew's voice, grating against his ear drums.

"There he is," Matthew coos, "I was giving up hope that this would be a proof of life picture, since you looked pretty dead there for a minute. This is much better. Smile for Gil, Malcolm, let him see just how much fun you're having."

Malcolm doesn't bother looking at the man, letting his gaze fall instead to JT, who is staring at Malcolm's chest in disgust and seems to be avoiding eye contact.

It hurts.

He needs the comfort of an Alpha. He needs a friend. And now JT can't even stand to look him in the eye. 

His whimper has nothing to do with the physical pain that's overtaking his body.

JT looks up at the sound, torment clear in his eyes.

"Aww, isn't this sweet," Matthew says, then gives his phone a wiggle as he adds, "I need to go contact the Lieutenant, so I'll just leave you to your longing gazes. Don't worry, though, I'll be back soon." With the thinly veiled threat, Matthew leaves them alone, bleeding and broken and unable to do anything besides witness the other's pain.

Dizzy with blood loss, Malcolm struggles to keep his head up, to keep himself present.

"Bright."

JT's voice shakes him to awareness just as his chin drops to his chest. Every part of him, from head to toe, is a screaming trail of anguish. He knows he's not going to last much longer. His insides ache in a way that is somehow worse than the fresh cuts on his chest and he's fairly certain the internal bleeding will end things if the blood loss doesn't get him first.

"Bright, man, stay with me. Please." JT sounds so broken. So desperate. 

He hates that he's the cause of that.

"Mmm," Malcolm's first attempt to talk is a failure, his mouth uncooperative with exhaustion, throat raw from screaming. But he drags his head up and looks the Alpha in the eye as he says, "Trying." It's the best he can do, but it seems to be enough for JT, as some of the fear and anger seems to dissipate.

"We're gonna get out of this. I promise," JT says, and Malcolm wants to believe him, he really does. But hope takes so much energy, and he just doesn't have it in him.

JT is looking him in the eye, though, and that gives Malcolm a small enough spark of hope to keep holding on.

For now, at least.


	6. Chapter 6

NOW

"I didn't want to," Malcolm casts his eyes down to the sheets beneath him, gaze tracing the tiny blue flowers as he confesses the truth to JT. "Survive, I mean. I wanted it to end. By the time he was...carving...this—" Malcolm waves a hand over his chest to indicate the healing scars, raised and red for the most part, though some of the shallower edges are fading to a light pink and blending into the unblemished skin that surrounds it. 

He hasn't admitted that to anyone. He's been seeing Gabrielle three times a week since he was released from the hospital, and though she's been invaluable in helping him process the trauma, he hasn't been entirely forthcoming. Two circumstances from that night have remained resolutely locked inside of him: he hasn't told anyone that JT was forced to have sex with him, and he hasn't admitted to anyone that Matthew succeeded in breaking him.

As he screws up the courage to finally look up, he expects to find disappointment in JT's eyes. Maybe even anger. Malcolm knows damn well that he should have been stronger. Matthew never should have been able to shatter him the way he did, and the shame has been eating at him for months. 

But when he looks into JT's eyes, all he sees is love.

And suddenly, JT's words from only a moment ago hit him like a freight train.

_I love you, Bright. Nothing's gonna change that._

"You—" The words stick in Malcolm's mouth, clinging to his tongue like oil. 

_I love you, Bright._

Tally suggested it earlier, but hearing it from JT is entirely different. It's more than he ever could have hoped for.

JT's concern drops away, replaced by a small smile as he realizes Malcolm is just catching up to those three little words. He keeps his hand over Malcolm's heart as he repeats the words that Malcolm seems to be so caught up on.

"I love you, Bright." JT says, leaning in slowly, giving him plenty of time to object if he wants to (he doesn't) before he gently presses his lips to Malcolm's. It's soft and tender and over before it starts, JT pulling back and looking Malcolm in the eye as he says it again. "I love you."

It takes a few seconds to blink the shock away, to register not only the words but the truth behind them.

"Still?" he asks quietly, wondering if everything JT has learned today has had any effect on his feelings.

"Always."

It's funny, Malcolm thinks, just how easily he believes the Alpha.

"I love you, too," Malcolm says, embracing the sweeping flutter that blooms in his belly as he admits what he's felt for so long, a flutter that only grows as the words spark a genuine smile on JT's face.

Malcolm leans in, bridging the distance between them as he wraps a hand around the back of JT's head and tugs him down for a kiss, already feeling like puzzle pieces slotting together, like they've been kissing like this all of their lives.

JT's hands find their ways to Malcolm's hips and soon he's being tugged forward to straddle JT's lap, deepening the kiss, and Malcolm is once again surprised to find his arousal building. He tentatively begins to rock his hips, drawing a groan from the Alpha as Malcolm's movement creates some much appreciated friction.

JT lets him rut for a while but eventually slows the movement with a firm grip on his hips.

"What do you want, Bright?" JT asks, concern for Malcolm's physical and emotional well-being preventing him from taking things any further until he knows what's safe and what's off-limits.

It only makes Malcolm love him more.

"You?" Malcolm says, expounding when he gets an arched eyebrow in return. "Uh, if it's okay with you, and Tally, of course, I uh…" Malcolm stumbles over the words feeling suddenly embarrassed about what he's asking.

JT, though, just holds him tight and presses featherlight kisses to both of Malcolm's eyelids when he squeezes his eyes shut against the humiliation that’s slowly building inside of him.

"Whatever you want, man. All you gotta do is ask." JT sounds so sincere that some of the embarrassment fades away.

"The last time I had sex was that night," Malcolm says quietly, feeling the way JT's hold on him tightens protectively at the mention of their captivity. It helps him to relax a little, knowing that JT is obviously still struggling with the aftereffects as well, hoping what he's about to suggest may be beneficial for them both. "And honestly, until today, I had no interest in exploring anything sexual. But I was thinking, maybe we could try to overwrite those memories."

JT loosens the tight hold he has around Malcolm's body and leans back enough that he can look Malcolm in the eye, making sure he's not misreading the situation. "You wanna have sex?"

"Only if you want to," Malcolm hastens to add. The last thing he wants to do is make JT uncomfortable.

"You sure you're ready for that?" JT asks and then pauses, clearly needing to say more. Malcolm waits patiently as JT frowns and adds, "You sure you want that with me?"

It breaks Malcolm's heart that JT feels so much guilt about what happened between them. It also strengthens his resolve. He wants to attempt to make his brain associate sex with good feelings, rather than negative ones, and he thinks maybe it will do the same for JT.

"There's no one else I'd be willing to try with," Malcolm says honestly, palms cupping JT's face to tilt his head up, looking him in the eye. "I want a life with you. And I don't want it to be built on what happened that night. I want to create new memories, new associations. I want to feel what it's like to be with you."

"I want that, too," JT says after a moment.

Malcolm tentatively rolls his hips, grinding against JT, the pleasure amplifying now that they know where it's leading. They both groan, hands scrambling for purchase on one another's bodies as they rock against one another.

Neither of them seem to be in any hurry. They grind against one another like teenagers, letting the pleasure swell and grow as JT's lips find their way to Malcolm's neck, planting a trail of light kisses along his sensitive skin. As JT grows hard beneath him, though, and Malcolm feels JT's erection pressing up against him through the thin layers of their pyjama pants, his heart begins pounding in his chest, a confusing mixture of lust and fear winding its way through his veins.

He pulls back and sucks in a breath, holding tight to JT's shoulders as he reminds himself that he wants this. That they _both_ want this and it's nothing like the last time.

"You okay, man?" JT asks, his hands pulling away from Malcolm's body like he's been burned.

"It's fine," Malcolm hastens to say, "I'm fine."

"Bright," JT says, disbelief evident in his tone. "If we're gonna try this, you're gonna have to be honest with me."

JT's right, of course. They're going to need to communicate clearly and expect that it might not happen on the first try. This isn't something he can just soldier through like he usually does.

He deflates in JT's lap, scrubbing his hands over his face as he realizes this isn't going to be as simple as he'd initially thought. 

"Hey," JT's concern is building and Malcolm can feel the Alpha's muscles tensing between his thighs. "Talk to me? Please?"

"I'm sorry," Malcolm says quietly. "You're right. We need to be honest. I just got a little overwhelmed."

JT's hands move back to his waist, a gesture that Malcolm can feel is all about comfort. "You don't need to apologize, Bright. Not for anything. Just talk to me, okay?"

"Yeah," Malcolm agrees, shifting forward again and slowly wrapping his arms around JT's neck, giving him ample opportunity to stop him if he's moving too fast. "Can we just, take it slow?"

"Of course," JT says, following Malcolm's lead. "Just promise me you'll let me know if there's a problem, and not just ignore it."

Malcolm blushes, knowing that's exactly what he would have done with anyone else. In answer, JT's hands move soothingly up and down his sides, drawing his attention to the Alpha who is staring at him knowingly, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a small smile.

"I promise," Malcolm says.

"Okay," JT says.

They wade in slowly this time, deliberate movements with lots of time to adjust. For both of them. By the time JT's erection is poking up at him this time, there's no fear in Malcolm, just a desire to take things further.

"You still good?" JT asks after sucking a mark onto Malcolm's neck that has him throbbing in his pants.

"Yes," Malcolm's reply is breathy and needy and makes JT growl deep in his chest.

"Okay, I'm gonna need to go get some lube if we're taking this any further." JT's fingers trail up and down Malcolm's spine, never dipping below the waistband of his pants. "You good with that? We can just keep doing this, if you want."

Malcolm stops to consider it. He feels good. Really good. And he wants to keep going. In answer to JT's question he crawls off of the Alpha's lap and licks his lips before saying, "Lube."

JT is gone for several minutes and Malcolm can hear the low murmurs of JT and Tally conversing down the hall, though he can't make out what they're saying. The tone of Tally's voice is calming, reassuring, and Malcolm wonders what exactly she's encouraging him to do.

When JT comes back in, he's carrying a bottle of lube, a towel, and a strip of condoms. "I wasn't sure if you'd want to use a condom or not," JT says as he sets everything down on the bedside table.

"Well, it's not like you can get me pregnant," Malcolm grins, feeling oddly light about the situation.

JT arches an eyebrow but Malcolm can see him fighting the smile that's tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, bro, I got that," JT huffs as he crawls back on the bed, gently tugging Malcolm down to lay beside him. "Tally and I don't use protection unless we're trying to avoid a mess. We're both clean, but obviously I do have unprotected sex with someone. If you want me to use a condom, I will. I assume you were tested...after…"

"I'm clean," Malcolm says, appreciating that JT cares enough about his safety to check in the first place. "If it's all the same to you, I'd like to forgo the condom. I want to feel you. All of you."

JT leans in and kisses him lightly. "Then that's what we'll do."

They take their time, kissing and tasting one another, only this time they let their hands roam a little freer. It's not long before JT's hand is slipping beneath the waistband of Malcolm's pants again, gently stroking his cock while his mouth traverses Malcolm's neck.

Malcolm's hands tentatively explore JT's body at the same time, his finger slipping beneath JT's shirt to drift over his pecs and down his belly, hesitating slightly as he reaches the waistband of JT's pants.

While JT's hand continues working his cock the same pace, the Alpha pulls back from Malcolm's neck to look him in the eye. "Whatever you're comfortable with, Bright. No expectations, no apologies, okay?"

Malcolm leans in to kiss him, loving him all the more for making him feel safe and accepted. It's that feeling of safety that allows Malcolm to push on, sliding his hand into JT's pants and wrapping around JT's cock. Malcolm starts slow, his attention divided between stroking JT and focusing on how he's feeling about this next step on their journey to having sex.

His heart rate has kicked up a notch, and he's fairly certain it's not _only_ arousal that's causing it. There's an undercurrent of fear that's running through his veins, too.

"I'm nervous," Malcolm says quietly, determined to keep his promise about open lines of communication.

JT's hand slows but doesn't stop as he says, "What do you need?"

"You." Malcolm leans in and buries his face in the crook of JT's neck, breathing in the intoxicating aromas of patchouli and hot sand that immediately calm Malcolm's racing heart. Even after everything that happened, JT still feels like safety, like sanctuary, to Malcolm.

They jerk each other off for a while, until Malcolm really feels the pleasure begin to swell, then he stops JT with a hand on his wrist. 

"Not like this," Malcolm says in response to the questioning look on JT's face. "I want to come with you inside of me. I need to remember that it can feel good."

Malcolm watches the _are you sure?_ form and die away on JT's lips, and his heart swells, grateful JT is trusting him to make this decision. JT merely leans in to kiss him one more time before rolling away and pushing to his feet, shucking his pants and t-shirt before grabbing the lube and towel and climbing back onto the bed.

"Can I?" JT asks, tugging lightly on the fabric of Malcolm's pants. At Malcolm's nod, JT pulls them off and suddenly they're both naked, in bed, and Malcolm's breath catches as he realizes this is actually happening. "You should probably know I'm gonna take a ton of time stretching you open."

Malcolm huffs out the breath that had been trapped in his chest, not at all surprised to hear that JT intends to take his time. He knows JT is processing what happened as well, and is likely battling his own nerves about moving forward. It helps to calm him, knowing he's not alone.

"You ready?" JT asks as he pops the cap of the lube.

"Yeah," Malcolm licks his lips nervously, "just, um. Go slow?"

"No shit," JT murmurs as he pours the lube over his fingers. It's such a typical response from the man that Malcolm finds himself smiling, relaxing just a little. JT nudges his legs open and shuffles forward, lowering his hand but pausing before he makes contact. "You tell me if you need me to stop, or even just slow down, okay?"

"Okay," Malcolm says, planting his feet on the mattress on either side of JT's legs. Spread out like this beneath the Alpha, Malcolm feels a smidgeon self-conscious, but he tries to push those feelings away, choosing to believe JT's assurances that the scars don't matter. He focuses instead on the feeling of JT's fingers as they press lightly against his hole, the pads of his middle and pointer finger running gentle circles over the tight muscle.

He feels the hesitation in JT's movements as his own body clenches against the possibility of intrusion and Malcolm curses his body for ignoring his mind's assertion that he's safe. He tries to force his traitorous body to relax, concerned that JT might end up having second thoughts about moving forward if he can't even relax enough to take a finger.

JT waits a moment, not pulling away, but not moving either, obviously waiting for any indication that he should stop. When Malcolm says nothing, he leans down over him, planting an elbow next to Malcolm to support his weight as he brings his mouth down to Malcolm's ear. 

"It's okay," he whispers, and presses a kiss to Malcolm's cheek. "We can take as long as you need." JT slowly starts circling his fingers again, massaging the muscle as he continues to talk. "I love you, Bright. I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe here, and you call the shots."

It's nothing he doesn't already know, but hearing it from JT is a reassurance he didn't even know he needed. He slowly begins to relax, the tension draining from his body, muscle by muscle. Being able to wrap his arms around JT and hold him close, drinking in his scent and feeling how safe he is with the Alpha surrounding him, it all works wonders to soothe his frayed nerves and it's not long before JT is pressing one thick finger inside of him. 

He jerks as the finger slides in, so damn slowly, up to the second knuckle, but it's not panic that's coursing through his veins. Sure, that undercurrent of fear is still buzzing just beneath his skin, but he feels _good_. He's always loved the feeling of having something — someone — inside of him, but with everything that happened, he'd wondered if that would've changed.

It hasn't, apparently.

A small gasp escapes his lips, followed by a quiet moan as JT recognizes the pleasure that's flooding through Malcolm and starts to pump his finger in and out of Malcolm's body. JT props himself up enough that he can look down and watch the enjoyment spread over Malcolm's face, but stays close enough for Malcolm to keep his arms coiled around him.

"Jesus, Bright," JT says with a note of reverence in his voice that makes Malcolm drag his eyelids open to look up at the man. "You're gorgeous like this."

A flush spreads over Malcolm's cheeks and down his chest at the words, drawing a grin from JT in return.

"Mmm," JT groans appreciatively, his finger never stopping, "you're beautiful when you blush."

It makes him blush even more, and Malcolm has no doubt that was JT's intent all along. JT's chuckle merely confirms his suspicions.

"Think you're ready for another finger?" JT asks, his grin fading to something tender, something filled with so much love that Malcolm can't help but smile back, pulling the Alpha down so their tongues will be tangled when JT adds a second digit to stretch him open.

"Yes," he whispers into JT's mouth and JT seems to understand exactly what Malcolm needs. His tongue chases Malcolm's into his mouth as he adds a second finger on his next slide into Malcolm's body.

After months of abstinence, there's a slight burn that accompanies the stretch, but it's surprisingly okay. It's the type of _pleasurepain_ that Malcolm has always enjoyed. His head falls back, breaking away from JT's kiss, but the Alpha simply moves his lips to the exposed column of Malcolm's neck instead, licking and sucking as he starts to scissor his fingers, preparing Malcolm with a determination that Malcolm isn't sure he's ever witnessed in him before.

JT pulls back only once, to add more lube. Other than that, he keeps close to Malcolm, letting his pheromones and his presence soothe the overwrought Omega in a way that only an Alpha can. Because of the way Malcolm goes lax under JT's ministrations, he's able to add a third finger quite quickly, and by that point Malcolm is nearly vibrating with desire, his body and mind finally appearing to be on the same page.

"Oh God, JT," Malcolm sighs, fingernails scratching down JT's back as he writhes on his fingers. "I'm ready. Oh God, I'm ready."

JT's mouth crashes against his with bruising force, amping up Malcolm's pleasure enough to steal the breath from his lungs. Right now, Malcolm isn't thinking about what Matthew put them through, isn't worrying about the scars that litter his body, isn't concerned about being enough for JT.

Right now, he's just _feeling_ everything.

JT pulls away after a moment, sitting back on his heels and picking up the bottle of lube once again, drizzling a slick stream over his cock, flushed and leaking where it's standing proud in front of him. Malcolm licks his lips, thinking just how much he'd like to feel the weight on his tongue at some point, when it's not a matter of getting JT hard enough to fuck him for some sadistic prick's pleasure.

He tries to push that thought from his mind as soon as it filters in. Matthew tainted their first encounter together; Malcolm refuses to allow him to ruin this one, too. Shaking Matthew's presence from his mind is more difficult than he'd like, though. The man is like a parasite, latching on and refusing to let go.

Malcolm takes a deep breath and attempts to center himself as JT lines himself up, the head of the Alpha's sizeable cock brushing over his loosened hole.

Despite Malcolm's noble intentions to keep Matthew and his twisted games from ruining their night, as JT's cock nudges against him, he flashes back to his time in that room, memories of the cold metal of the shotgun being forced inside flooding his mind in an instant. His chest tightens, a crushing weight settling directly over his lungs making it hard to breathe as his body completely freezes on the bed, feeling just as restrained now as he was then.

JT, being the brilliant and wonderful Alpha that he is, runs his hands up and down Malcolm's thighs, staying completely still and refusing to move one way or the other until Malcolm makes the decision for himself. 

"Bright, you're safe here" JT says calmly, his level cadence helping to ratchet down some of the fear that was threatening to swallow Malcolm whole, pulling him back to the present, "Can you take a deep breath for me, man?"

He really can't.

But he does manage a small one. And then another.

"That's good," JT encourages. "You're doing real good, bro."

In the time it takes for Malcolm to realize he's not in danger, not back in that room, not about to be sodomized with a shotgun, JT's erection flags and is no longer a threat anyways. 

JT stays where he is, warm hands continuing to run up and down Malcolm's thighs, the measured movements giving Malcolm something to time his breathing against, and he takes full advantage of the unexpected lull to calm himself down and get himself centered before he even attempts to move.

When he finally looks up, his heart breaks at the sight. While JT is still using his presence and his touch to help Malcolm, his own pain goes unremarked, silent tears streaming down his face. With closed eyes, JT is unaware of Malcolm's gaze on him and Malcolm can see the inner war waging within the man through the broken expression on his face.

Malcolm pushes himself up, startling the Alpha as he crawls onto JT's lap, pressing their bodies together wherever he can and letting his own soothing pheromones flow from his body, attempting to soothe JT like JT's been soothing him.

"I did this to you," JT says, the words as broken as his expression. "I am so fucking sorry."

"JT, don't," Malcolm whispers, rubbing his face along JT's neck, trying to scent himself and make himself belong to JT like he so desperately wants. "None of this is your fault. All of this is because of Matthew, and we need to let the blame die with him."

The way JT's arms wrap around his body, holding him tight, tells him that JT is considering his words, and Malcolm's heart suddenly feels so much lighter. The idea of letting everything go, of burying all of the fear and anger and helplessness with the man that caused it in the first place, feels oddly freeing. He knows it's not as simple as just moving on and pretending like nothing happened, knows that he's still going to have flashbacks and nightmares, but letting go of the self-blame he's been carrying — placing it squarely with Matthew, where it belongs — is unexpectedly liberating. 

The change must be noticeable in his scent, because JT pulls back slightly and arches an eyebrow, his eyes skimming over Malcolm's face, searching for the source of the change.

Malcolm gives him a soft smile and says it again, "The responsibility lies with Matthew alone, and he's paid for what he did. I think it's time for both of us to move past what he did and live our lives."

He drops a hand to his stomach, still flat, though he would swear he can see the start of a swell. He's...surprisingly okay with that.

"We owe it to the baby to start moving on," he says quietly.

JT unwinds one of his arms from around Malcolm and tentatively rests a hand on Malcolm's stomach, just below where Malcolm's is splayed. The way the Alpha's face softens is a wonder to behold and Malcolm leans in to kiss him, love for the man that put this baby inside of him crashing through him like a tidal wave.

The kiss quickly becomes heated, the kindling of their earlier lust reigniting with ease, and it's not long before they're both hard again, cocks rubbing against each other as Malcolm writhes in JT's lap.

Malcolm isn't entirely sure whether it's the catharsis of releasing the blame or the fact that he's on top and has a little more control of the situation, but the fear from earlier seems to have dissipated. He feels like, maybe, they can do this.

"Let me ride you," Malcolm says against JT's lips, a shiver of delight rippling through his body at the idea, at being so bold as to ask for it in the first place.

JT moans and slides his hands down to Malcolm's ass, giving a tight squeeze to the toned muscles. "Fuck, yes," he breathes and reaches over to grab the lube. Malcolm is still slick, but JT isn't going to take any chances. He drizzles a little more over his cock and gives himself a few strokes to spread it until he's liberally coated.

Gripping JT's shoulders for balance, Malcolm lifts his hips and lines himself up with JT's cock, locking eyes with the Alpha as he slowly lowers himself. The stretch feels perfect, JT filling him in ways he didn't even know he'd been craving. His jaw drops at the sensation of feeling so damn full, so complete, as he takes inch after inch of JT's cock.

They're both panting by the time he bottoms out, the build-up leaving them on edge and ready to blow before they've even started.

"Fuck," JT says through clenched teeth, clearly struggling to get his body under control. "You're so tight. I'm not gonna last."

That's fine by Malcolm. He doesn't think he's ever wanted anything more than to be filled with JT's come. 

"Yes," Malcolm moans and rocks his hips, "fill me, Alpha."

JT's hands shift to Malcolm's hips, ready to help steady him, and Malcolm can tell by the contraction of muscles throughout JT's body that he's holding himself back from thrusting up into Malcolm's body, letting Malcolm set the pace and choose just how far they go.

"I love you." The admission falls from Malcolm's lips without thought and he punctuates the statement by raising himself up a few inches and then dropping back down.

The friction feels perfect and Malcolm throws himself headlong into building their pleasure, riding JT slowly, pausing occasionally to crash their lips together, and then resuming the languid pace.

"Jesus Christ, Bright. Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are like this?" JT says, fingertips pressing just a little harder into Malcolm's hips. The intoxicating wash of JT's scent tells Malcolm exactly how turned on JT is at the moment and it makes him blush and pick up the pace. 

JT's lust fuels Malcolm's arousal and soon he's so hard he's aching, his body screaming for release.

"Alpha, please," he begs, bouncing in JT's lap as he chases his release, staring into JT's eyes, pleading for help in tipping over the edge.

"Come for me Bright. Show me what a good little Omega you are and come on my dick."

The words spark a frisson of fear in his body, memories of Matthew's delight as he condescendingly called Malcolm _such a good little Omega_ surfacing, but then JT's lips are on his and JT’s hand is wrapping around his cock, stroking in time with Malcolm's movements and suddenly every single thought leaves his mind. If he'd thought his orgasm earlier was powerful, this one is something else entirely.

JT's arms wrap around him to hold him up when he slumps against his body, quiet words of reassurance whispered into his ear as he comes back to himself. It only takes a moment to realize that JT is still rock hard and stretching him open and Malcolm begins to roll his hips, keeping his face buried in his Alpha's neck, drinking in his scent as he works to please JT.

"Bright," JT attempts to still Malcolm's hips with firm hands, but Malcolm refuses to be stayed. "You don't need to. I'm okay."

"Need you," Malcolm mumbles into JT's skin. "Need your come inside. Filling me."

With his words failing him, it's the best Malcolm can manage. He doesn’t tell JT that he needs JT to claim him and this is the best way to do it short of actually marking him. He doesn't tell JT that he's always loved being fucked after he's come, when he's oversensitive and overstimulated. He doesn't tell JT that he's felt like a failure these last three months and that pleasing his Alpha is far more important to his self-worth right now than it ought to be.

JT seems to understand regardless. 

As Malcolm starts to ride him again, gasping at the sensation of JT's cock dragging over his prostate, JT's hands drift over his body and his words float quietly into Malcolm's heart.

"God, I love you, Bright. You're perfect, you know that? So good for me," JT's voice becomes tight and breathy as he speaks and Malcolm can tell he's close. "I can't wait to have this baby with you. Fuck. I want a whole litter with you."

Malcolm gasps and squeezes hard around JT's cock, dragging JT over the edge into a powerful orgasm of his own, coating Malcolm's insides with his hot come exactly how Malcolm wanted. Needed.

JT holds him close the whole time, seemingly needing the contact just as badly as Malcolm. Malcolm stays in JT's lap until JT softens and slips out of his hole, and even then he makes no move to leave the warmth of JT's embrace. It's only when JT attempts to shift slightly that Malcolm realizes how uncomfortable the man must be, still kneeling on the bed with all of Malcolm's weight in his lap.

"Shit. Sorry," Malcolm says, uncoiling himself from around JT's body.

"It's cool," JT holds him tight, refusing to let him move. "You seem comfortable, I don't mind staying put."

Malcolm chuckles and drops a kiss to JT's lips, his love for the man somehow growing even more. "I can be just as comfortable laying next to you when your legs aren't going to completely fall asleep."

JT reluctantly agrees and soon they're wiped clean and curled up on the bed, Malcolm tucked under JT's chin, both of them seeking as much contact as possible. 

"You hungry yet?" JT eventually asks.

Malcolm has already eaten more since he arrived at JT and Tally's only a handful of hours ago than he had in the last two days combined. Even still, he finds himself feeling like he could eat again.

"Yes?" He's honestly a little confused about the feeling.

The deep chuckle that's pulled from JT at the _questionanswer_ has Malcolm ducking his head into JT's shoulder, but he's inwardly delighted to make JT laugh, even if it wasn't on purpose.

"Bro, we're gonna feed you so much over the next six months," JT says, kissing the top of Malcolm's head before pushing himself to his feet and reaching for his pyjamas. 

Malcolm can't help the smile that tugs at his lips at the casual domesticity. JT isn't even questioning that Malcolm will be there to feed and it pleases Malcolm more than he'd care to admit. He's already feeling like he's found a place where he belongs, which is something he hasn't felt since he was a little kid.

He likes it.

A lot.

JT offers a hand to help him up and Malcolm accepts it, letting the Alpha tug him to his feet and help him with his pyjamas before they head back out to the living room. The slightly awkward feelings that Malcolm is expecting don't even have a chance to make themselves known, as Tally looks up at their entrance with a knowing smirk on her face.

"You two look _very_ relaxed. Good nap?" she asks around an amused laugh.

Malcolm blushes but allows her to tug him forward to sit next to her on the couch, sinking down next to her like he's been doing for so long. 

Like he didn't just sleep with her husband.

"Hon, can you go check on dinner?" Tally says to JT. "The rice and salmon should be ready soon, so you can just turn the veggies on if it looks good."

"Yep," JT says simply and leaves the room, looking just fine with avoiding the conversation that's about to happen.

Malcolm isn't nervous, per se, but he doesn't have a frame of reference for how things are supposed to go, which throws him a little off balance. He doesn't have long to think on it though, because Tally is threading an arm through his and needling him for gossip like she's been doing for the last couple years.

"So?" she says excitedly, "How was it?"

It's the same question she asks after all of his dates (infrequent as they may be), and he's unbelievably relieved to feel like nothing has changed between them. Now more than ever, he needs his best friend. And it looks like he might just be spending a whole lot of time with her.

"Um. It was good," Malcolm says, feeling his cheeks heat up at the admission. "Really good."

"Right?" Tally says with a smile. "He's pretty amazing. And an exceptional Alpha. We're lucky to have him"

She's right on all counts. But he can't help but wonder if she's truly okay with sharing JT with him.

"Malcolm, it's fine," she says earnestly. She always could read him better than anyone else and he isn't surprised that she knows exactly what's worrying him right now. "We're gonna make this work. For all of us. I promise."

He can tell she means it. And he loves her for being willing to upend her life to welcome Malcolm and the baby into their home. He leans over and presses a light kiss to her cheek, whispering a heartfelt thank you as he pulls away.

"Dinner should be ready in about ten minutes," JT says, coming back into the room and dropping on the sofa next to Malcolm, pulling him over and wrapping an arm around his shoulders as he tucks Malcolm next to him.

Tally rolls her eyes and mutters, "Alphas." She pats Malcolm's leg as she pushes to her feet and heads into the kitchen, presumably to put any finishing touches on the meal.

"I can go help with dinner," Malcolm says, appreciating JT's body heat where they‘re pressed together. The man runs like a furnace, and Malcolm thinks he could get used to feeling warm for a change.

"In a minute," JT says, and Malcolm can tell he has something on his mind. When Malcolm shifts to look up at him, the question clear in his eyes, JT scrubs a hand over his face and says, "What do you want to tell Gil?"

Malcolm takes a deep breath, knowing things are going to be complicated. Statements will need to be amended, explanations will be expected. He already feels terrible about lying to everyone in the first place, but at the time, it seemed like the only option.

Things are different now.

"The truth," he says with a sigh.


	7. Chapter 7

THEN

Matthew gets cocky. When he comes back maybe ten minutes later, there's a pep in his step and an excitement in his eyes that makes Malcolm's chest tighten, his body anticipating the pain that's bound to come along with Matthew's joyful mood.

"Well boys, let me tell you," Matthew beams as he closes the door behind him and walks between the two men, "Your boss is _not_ pleased about this situation. The language he used! I expected better from a high ranking NYPD official, honestly."

There's a twinge in Malcolm's chest, hating that he's partially responsible for causing Gil pain, even though he knows it's not his fault. He knows that Gil must be beside himself right now, and is probably organizing every resource available to aid in the hunt for his two missing team members. For him to receive a taunting call from Matthew is merely salt on a very open, very raw wound.

"The groundwork is laid, though," Matthew carries on like JT and Malcolm ought to be impressed with his work. "When I speak to him next, I'll give him an address to meet me at. Now, I know what you're thinking; he won't come alone. Don't worry, though, I've got some surprises set up for any company he might bring."

JT growls, the sound reverberating deep in his chest at the idea of losing any officers to the psychopath in front of him, but Matthew just smiles and presses on.

"Come on, boys," he says with a smirk, "I thought you'd be excited. In a little over two hours, you'll be reunited with another member of your pack. This is a cause for celebration!"

Malcolm's having trouble even keeping his eyes open, but he forces his gaze to JT and sees the same trepidation in the Alpha that he's feeling in the pit of his stomach. He can only imagine what Matthew's idea of a celebration is.

"Now, I don't mean to brag, but I'm a bit of a handyman," Matthew says, placing his hand lightly over his heart, in a way that Malcolm assumes is supposed to be humble. "So, I designed my own version of The Rack." 

Matthew walks over to the side of the room and pulls a clunky contraption over that Malcolm had only caught glimpses of beneath the table. It takes very little imagination to understand what he's going to do with it as he rolls it to the head of JT's cot. Visions of JT being hooked up to the device, his arms pulled overhead until his shoulders, hips, knees, and elbows dislocate and eventually separate altogether float into Malcolm's mind and a whimper escapes his lips before they've even begun.

He'd happily die to keep JT from suffering that fate, and it kills him that there's not a damn thing he can do to stop it. The hopelessness weighs down on him so heavily that he finds it hard to breathe.

"I haven't had the opportunity to try this out yet," Matthew says as he secures the base of the device to the legs of the cot, ensuring it will be kept in place as he ratchets the tension up to increase the strain on JT's joints, "but I'm quite excited to see how well it works."

Matthew saunters to the side of the cot without a care in the world, casually pulling the key to JT's cuffs from his pocket as he goes, swinging it from his finger. He bends at the waist next to where JT's hand is cuffed to the side of the frame, swollen and purpling from the four broken fingers, and slides the key in the lock, turning his head to face Malcolm with a smile.

"I can smell the defeat on you, little Omega," Matthew taunts, as he twists the key to release JT's wrist, obviously intending to pull the Alpha's arm above his head in preparation for the next torture. He's so distracted by Malcolm's despair, though, that he misses the glint of steel in JT's eyes. So caught up in the impending success of his plan to capture Gil that he misses the way JT's lip curls up in a snarl that — even knowing JT would never hurt him — makes Malcolm's spine go rigid in the presence of such a clear threat. "I know you're probably gonna kick the bucket soon, and, I'll admit, that's partially my fault, but I'm going to need you to hold on a while longer. It would be a shame if I went through all this work for a team reunion only to—"

The words are cut off with a startled yelp as JT's hand jerks up and wraps around Matthew's throat, squeezing infinitely harder than his broken fingers should allow. Malcolm witnesses the flash of fear in Matthew's eyes, the recognition that he's made a fatal mistake, but JT moves so quickly that Matthew doesn't have time to do anything more than bring his hands up in a futile attempt to pry JT's fingers from his throat.

With a surge of strength that Malcolm wouldn't have suspected JT had left in him, the Alpha yanks Matthew forward while hauling himself halfway off the bed in a sort of frozen sit-up, baring his teeth as he lunges for Matthew's neck.

Malcolm's never seen JT look so feral. There's no hesitation, no second thoughts, just the basic animal instinct to survive and protect his own. His teeth rip through Matthew's skin with surprisingly little resistance, jaw clamping shut hard around the mouthful of flesh before jerking his head to the side, tearing it all away with a savageness that leaves Malcolm reeling.

JT spits the hunk of flesh out, blood sprinkling from his mouth along with it, before turning back to continue his assault, ready to do whatever it takes to end the nightmare they're trapped in. The steady stream of blood pumping from Matthew's neck and drenching everything around him, though, makes it clear that JT's already severed the carotid artery. With blood staining his lips and dripping down his chin, JT tightens his grip and watches as the life literally drains from the deranged Alpha that's caused them so much pain.

Malcolm sits frozen in the chair, an unexpected spectator to a grisly play. It doesn't take long for Matthew to slump against JT, unconsciousness claiming him before death has a chance to, but JT keeps a steady hold anyway, crushing the man's trachea until the blood no longer spurts from the wound in time with his fading heartbeat. Only then does JT release Matthew's body and allow himself to fall back against the cot.

For several minutes, the only sound in the room is JT's jagged breathing. Malcolm is too stunned to move, though the adrenaline that's pumping through his veins has at least pushed back the fatigue and despair that had been making it hard to keep his eyes open.

It's JT that finally moves. He pushes himself up with a tired groan and reaches over for the key, still hanging from his released cuff. He fumbles with getting it free, obviously feeling each one of his broken fingers as he liberates the key and brings it to his other wrist. He's unlocked in no time, swinging his legs over the side of the cot, nudging Matthew's body out of the way with his boot before pushing to his feet.

Suddenly, JT is crouched down in front of Malcolm, blood stained and still looking a little wild, but the concern in his eyes outshines everything else.

"Hey, man," JT whispers, holding his hands up in front of him, an offering of peace that's distorted by the fractured angle of several of his fingers. "It's okay, you're okay. He's not gonna hurt you anymore."

It's only as JT's concern grows deeper that Malcolm realizes that the high-pitched keening noise that's filling the room is coming from him. Once he realizes that, it doesn't take long to discover that his whole body is shaking violently, teeth chattering so hard his jaw aches.

The flood of pheromones from the two Alphas clearly had more of an affect on him than he thought. His body is craving the safety of his pack, of an Alpha, and being tied to a chair and unable to defend himself against the threats that his body is perceiving is destroying him.

"Hey, hey, you're safe, Bright, I promise," JT says slowly, trying to keep calm, for Malcolm, but unable to contain the edge of panic in his voice at seeing an Omega in such distress.

The spikes of pain throughout his body are combining with the mingled scents of blood and anger and death to set him in a panic that is quickly threatening to overtake him. 

JT jumps to his feet and is back within seconds with the carving knife that Matthew had used on his chest, sawing through the ropes that are holding him to the chair. The pain etched on JT's face as he grips the knife is clear to Malcolm even in his terrified state, but the Alpha pushes through, sawing through every rope that's holding him down until Malcolm is free.

It doesn't matter that he knows JT isn't a threat, his instincts are screaming at him to run. As soon as the last binding falls from his ankle, he throws himself from the chair, nearly knocking JT over in his haste to get away. His own body barely supports him, but it doesn’t matter because he needs to _get away_.

"Shit, Bright, no," JT is fast enough on his feet to keep Malcolm from getting out the door, running off to god knows where when he's terrified, naked, and seriously injured. But having his exit cut off ratchets up the fear for Malcolm and he backs himself into a corner, sliding down to the floor, making himself as small as he possibly can as he wraps his arms around his shins, his breath coming out in shallow, rapid pants that he has no control over.

He's vaguely aware of JT's calming words and is cognizant enough to keep a weary eye on his surroundings, watching JT pat down Matthew and pull out his cellphone, using the man's finger to unlock the phone, all the while keeping a close watch on Malcolm.

As the pheromones begin to clear from the room — the cloying miasma of terror and fury and hatred disappearing as JT calms down and Matthew's essence continues to drain from the gaping wound in his neck — Malcolm slowly manages to get his mind, if not his body, under control.

The shaking does seem to lessen as his mind takes hold, his breathing and heart rate following course, and he watches with an eerie sense of calm as JT calls Gil and attempts to explain, in the broadest of terms, what happened and where they‘re located. Malcolm can feel the concern amping up as JT's eyes remain resolutely focused on him, but doesn't understand why JT is so worried now that Matthew is no longer a threat. It's not until his head drops to his knees, exhaustion making it impossible to hold his head up any longer, that he understands JT is worried about him.

"I sent our location, just come get us!" JT shouts just before Malcolm hears the clatter of the phone as it falls to the floor.

He feels JT's heat next to him, smells the comforting and familiar scents that he's come to know so well over the last couple years, but even still, when JT reaches out to lay a hand on his shoulder, he flinches back so violently that he slams against the wall, yelping as the impact jostles his wounds.

It's not that he doesn’t want _JT_ touching him, specifically, it's just that he's so overloaded — physically, mentally, emotionally — that even the smallest amount of physical contact is far beyond what he can handle at the moment.

"Shit. Man, I'm sorry," JT jerks back almost as hard as Malcolm, raising his hands in front of him and putting just a little more distance between them. "Look. Help is coming, you just need to hold tight a little longer."

He's too goddamn tired to explain to JT that it's not his fault. Besides that, JT is right. Help is coming. Which means they have a matter of minutes until the room is swarmed with officers and forensic techs.

He knows he can't hide everything from Gil; there's too much evidence of what happened in this room. But it's only since returning to New York that he's really felt like he had a life. Like he had something worth living for. And JT and the team are the reason why. He doesn't want things to change.

He knows it's not their fault, but knowledge of what he and JT were forced to do would hang over them for years to come, a source of water cooler talk and supposition that they'll never really escape. Malcolm is used to everyone talking behind his back, but he can't stomach the idea of it happening to JT, as well.

"JT," Malcolm whispers as a shiver racks his body, aware that the man's attention is one hundred percent focussed on him. 

"Yeah, man?" JT responds just as quietly, still trying not to spook Malcolm 

"When we g-give our statements," Malcolm forces out through chattering teeth, fighting at this point to even keep his eyes open. The residual adrenaline running through his veins is the only thing keeping him upright and conscious, and he suspects it's not going to last much longer. When he launched himself from the chair so abruptly, dozens of his wounds reopened and the internal bleeding that had slowed following Matthew's assault with the shotgun begins to flow steadily again. He feels the blood dripping down his skin, stealing away the only warmth he has. Can feel it pooling beneath him as it drips from deep inside of him. "C-can we leave out the p-part about you and me…"

He doesn't need to finish the sentence. The guilt and shame that radiates from JT at the mention is potent, and Malcolm knows JT wishes he could forget it ever happened. He hopes that makes him agreeable to omitting it from their statement.

"Bro, we can't," JT starts, but Malcolm cuts him off with nothing more than a broken whisper. 

"Please."

He watches the play of emotions over JT's face as he weighs the options, and he can pinpoint the exact moment JT makes a decision, before the Alpha even says a word. 

"Okay," JT says, "we'll leave it out."

The rest of their wait is spent in silence. Malcolm drops his head back down to his knees and feels the inexorable pull of unconsciousness tugging at the edges of his mind. 

He doesn't even want to fight it.

He hears the clatter of the door flying open, the exchange of words between JT and whomever it was that entered, and then he hears nothing at all.

\---

NOW

JT's on board with the truth coming out, but they both decide that's tomorrow's problem. They spend the rest of the evening focusing on the new dynamic between them and how it's going to fit into JT's life with Tally and Aaliyah. The conversation carries on throughout dinner — delicious and easy for Malcolm's stomach to handle, even now with the morning sickness that often lasts all day, and Malcolm offers a heartfelt thanks to Tally for making easy-to-digest fare for him — and well into the evening.

They all know that they can't solve everything in one night, but they get a remarkably decent start on it.

By the time Malcolm is biting back his yawns and fighting against the sleep that's trying so hard to claim him while curled up next to JT on the couch, he's feeling surprisingly content with how his future is shaping up. They've all agreed to wait a month before making any permanent plans about living arrangements, giving them plenty of time to work out what exactly they want, and sort out what works and what doesn't in regards to their cohabitation plans. Malcolm will likely spend most of that time staying with JT and Tally anyways, but he'll take some time at his loft as well — alone and with JT — so they all have time apart.

"Okay, that's it. I'm calling it," Tally says, lean arms stretching high above her head. "We all need a good night's sleep after the excitement of the day." 

It's a gentle way of referring to the hurricane of emotions that swept in along with Malcolm that morning, but she's not wrong about needing a good night's sleep. Somehow, the nap he took that afternoon has left him even more tired than before, like his body suddenly remembers what sleep is and is demanding more.

Malcolm pushes to his feet and turns to bid both of the Tarmels goodnight, but then Tally leans into JT and kisses him quickly on the lips, her fingers trailing idly over the back of his head as she says, "Good night, hon. I love you." She stands up and kisses Malcolm on the cheek and says, "Sleep well. I'll see you boys in the morning."

Malcolm certainly wasn't expecting to sleep with JT tonight and doesn't feel quite right about taking him from Tally's bed. Tally, of course, notices his confusion and gives him a small smile. 

"Don't think you'll be getting him every night," she says, bumping him playfully on the arm. "But you two need each other tonight. And hopefully you'll help one another get a decent sleep, for a change."

"Thank you, Tally. For everything," he says. It's woefully inadequate to express his gratitude but she seems to understand, nonetheless.

She gives him one last smile and then makes her way down the hall towards her bedroom, the door closing behind her with a quiet snick.

"That woman is all kinds of amazing," JT says, his gaze still lingering in her wake, and Malcolm simply nods his agreement. After a moment, JT gives his head a shake and gets to his feet, slipping his hand into Malcolm's and giving it a light squeeze. "Let's go to bed. Tomorrow's gonna be...interesting."

Soon they're curled up together in bed, having reached a compromise of one wrist restraint for Malcolm, knowing JT will be holding him close throughout the night as well. The nightmares still come, waking them both, but for the first time since everything happened, Malcolm feels safe enough in JT's arms to try going back to sleep.

When morning rolls around, he feels better than he has in months, and JT looks considerably healthier than he did when he showed up at Malcolm's loft the day before. Apparently Tally was right; they did need each other.

Breakfast is a light-hearted affair, the three of them enjoying each other's company while Tally keeps piling food on both of their plates, clearly pleased to see them eating so well. When all is said and done, when the food is put away and the dishes washed up, Tally heads out to go pick up Aaliyah from her sister's, while JT and Malcolm prepare themselves for the daunting task of coming clean about what really happened that night.

JT keeps a hand on Malcolm's knee for most of the drive to the precinct, a not-so-subtle reminder that Malcolm isn't alone anymore. It's more comforting than Malcolm would have expected and he allows himself to soak up the sense of peace JT provides. It's not so much that he's nervous about coming clean, more that he's anxious about how everyone will handle the news.

"You ready for this?" JT asks, pulling the car to the curb and setting the parking brake.

"No," Malcolm says simply, but turns and offers a small smile, adding, "but let's do it anyway."

They make their way to the main entrance, walking so close to one another that the backs of their hands occasionally brush, and the contact helps to ease Malcolm's nerves just a little. JT holds the door open with an encouraging smile that Malcolm knows is just for him, knowing damn well that the Alpha must be feeling some of the same apprehension he is. Malcolm sucks in a fortifying breath and walks through.

He sees Gil sitting at his desk before they even make it into the bullpen and suddenly feels the nerves hit hard. He doesn't even realize he's stopped until JT is standing in front of him, reaching out to take one of his hands.

"Is this okay?" JT asks quietly.

"Better than okay," Malcolm says in return, courage swelling inside of him knowing that JT is there, that he's willing to let the entire precinct see them holding hands. It's one less secret weighing him down. Malcolm glances back to Gil's office and gives himself a small nod, ready to do what needs to be done.

"You know he'll understand," JT assures him as they walk to Gil's office hand-in-hand, drawing confused looks from everyone they pass.

"Yeah," Malcolm agrees, because of course Gil will understand. It's just that it makes everything that much more real. And he hates that he's been lying for months to the man who's been like a father to him for most of his life. "I know."

Gil looks up as Malcolm and JT walk into the office, a smile on his face, "Hey there, city boy. Thought you'd be—" The words trail off and his smile slowly morphs into a look of confusion as his eyes trail down to Malcolm's tight grip on JT's hand.

"Hey, boss," JT says when Malcolm makes no move to explain. "We need to talk. Do you have some time?"

Gil's eyes dart between JT and Malcolm, clearly trying to work out what the hell is going on. He gives his head a quick shake after a moment and nods, realizing he'll get answers from the men in front of him sooner that way.

"Um. Maybe Dani, too?" Malcolm says quietly. They're a team, and she deserves to know the truth as well, besides which, he'd really rather only have to say this all once.

JT looks him over briefly then nods once and releases his hand, heading back into the bullpen to go grab Dani.

Malcolm looks at Gil and can tell he already has a hundred questions that he wants to ask. It doesn't surprise him at all (though it helps to ease his nerves a little) that the question the man finally lands on is, "Are you okay, kid?"

Malcolm looks out the window to where JT is hunched over Dani's desk, having a quiet but intense conversation with the Beta who has become family — pack — to him over the years. It feels right to fill Gil and Dani in on what's going on with them, even if it's going to be painful to discuss. 

"You know what?" Malcolm turns back to Gil, letting the tension drain from his muscles. "I really am."

Gil looks surprised, but pleased, with the answer.

"What's up?" Dani cocks an eyebrow at him as she walks into the office, then turns her questioning gaze to Gil, who just shrugs and gestures to JT and Malcolm.

"We should probably sit for this," Malcolm says.

Gil takes the chair at the head of the small coffee table, while Dani merely perches herself on the edge of the desk facing the couch. Malcolm and JT take the couch together, Malcolm instinctively tucking himself into JT's side, and JT automatically interlacing their fingers, drawing a scowl from Gil and a surprised gasp from Dani.

JT looks to Gil right away and says, "Tally knows, and she's on board with this," assuaging some of the anger that's radiating from the Alpha. Malcolm isn't surprised that Gil would react badly to hints of infidelity; the man is loyal to a fault and would consider that type of betrayal as especially despicable.

"Um, on board with what, exactly?" Dani asks quietly, having no intention of getting between the two Alphas as they stare each other down.

"I'm pregnant," Malcolm says, breaking the staring contest as Gil's eyes fly to Malcolm, shock written on every line of his face. Before Dani or Gil have the chance to ask, he answers what's bound to be their first question. "It's JT's. And yes, Tally knows."

Gil's confusion and outrage rolls off him in waves, filling the room uncomfortably and Malcolm knows he needs to allay Gil's concerns — that JT was unfaithful or, worse, took advantage of Malcolm's recent traumas — before this turns into a pissing match between the two Alphas.

"Gil," Malcolm says calmly, his pheromones providing a neutral cast to the sour scent of the room. "It happened when Matthew had us."

It takes a moment for the words to register, but Gil deflates as soon as they do and the puzzle pieces begin to slot into place for the Lieutenant. 

"Shit," Dani whispers, looking between Malcolm and JT with a sympathy and understanding and leaves Malcolm feeling oddly exposed.

As if sensing Malcolm's sudden feelings of vulnerability, JT wraps an arm around Malcolm's shoulders and they begin to tell their story, the uncensored version this time. 

It's painful to relive, but cathartic as well, and Malcolm feels the burden lift from his shoulders as he lets go of the secrets that he's been carrying these last few months. He explains that the pregnancy was the reason he was planning on moving, intending to keep it all a secret, but that, after speaking with JT and Tally, his plans have changed.

Gil and Dani listen quietly for the most part, offering the occasional interjection or, in Gil's case, growl, as they speak, clearly waiting until the tale has been told before asking any questions.

"Jesus," Gil says as he scrubs a hand over his goatee, and Malcolm recognizes the helplessness in his eyes from his own reflection the last few months.

"I'm sorry we lied," Malcolm says after the last of the account has been given. "I need you to know that it was my idea, that JT only went along with it because I asked him to." The last thing he wants is for JT to catch flak for trying to protect him.

"Kid, don't," Gil says, leaning forward in his chair and reaching out to give Malcolm's knee a comforting squeeze. "Don't you dare apologize."

The fact that Gil isn't angry is such a relief that he sinks into JT's body, only vaguely aware of the soft lips pressed to his temple as JT lets him know he's there for him, that everything is okay.

"Are you...okay?" Dani asks, drawing Malcolm's attention as she looks down to his stomach. "You and the baby. Are you both healthy?"

He smiles up at Dani as she reminds him of this tiny but brilliant light at the end of the darkness. His hand drops without thought to rest on his belly. It's still so new to him to consider the life that's growing inside of him, but every moment spent with JT at his side makes him more excited about becoming a father. Becoming a family. 

"Yeah," he says quietly. "We're both just fine."

"You look happy," Dani smiles back at him and then looks to take in JT as well. "You both do. I'm glad you two sorted things out."

Malcolm looks to JT and realizes that Dani is right. He's pretty damn happy right now, and JT looks to feel the same way. It's funny how much of a difference twenty-four hours can make, he thinks, remembering how this time yesterday he was having a breakdown as he waited to head to the airport, intending to leave New York, his family, and his pack for good. He's incredibly grateful that JT showed up at his loft before he left.

"Me too," Malcolm says, embracing the way his heart flutters at the soft look JT gives him.

"So I assume this means you're not moving, now?" Gil's initial reticence has long since faded away, the heavy notes of his earlier disappointment replaced by the warm scent of leather and sandalwood that Malcolm has long since come to associate with sanctuary and acceptance.

"Oh. Yes," Malcolm runs a hand through his hair nervously, "If possible, I'd very much like to rescind my resignation."

Even facing Gil, Malcolm can feel JT's gaze land on him, piercing through him in a way that feels entirely possessive, the Alpha's muscles tensing around him. They haven't discussed Malcolm working while pregnant and he's realizing now that JT is going to have _opinions_ about Malcolm chasing after criminals while carrying their child. 

Malcolm hasn't really given any thought to it himself — up until yesterday he believed his career with law enforcement was over — but he's pretty sure he doesn't want to be running after killers right now, anyways. Either way, they're going to need to have a conversation when they get home.

Gil's amused gaze flicks between Malcolm and JT, clearly reading the situation accurately as he bites down on the chuckle that so obviously wants to break through. He reaches over to his desk, ruffling through the stack of papers near the edge, pulling out a familiar heavy-weight envelope and handing it to Malcolm.

"You didn't open it?" Malcolm asks, sliding his thumb along the edge of the envelope before tucking it into his jacket pocket.

Gil just shrugs, "You always have a place here, kid."

A quick look at JT shows him shooting daggers at Gil, and Malcolm can't stop the laugh that bubbles up at the look, drawing JT's gaze to himself. JT purses his lips as he looks down at the amused Omega and puts in a valiant effort to tamp down the smile that tries to break free in response.

"We'll talk at home?" Malcolm suggests, a warm, tingly sensation spreading from his chest throughout his body at the implication that JT and Tally's place is home.

"Damn straight," JT mutters, but then leans in and plants the gentlest of kisses on Malcolm's lips to ease the harsh words. 

"Ugh," Dani says, pushing up from the desk with a smirk. "Please tell me you guys aren't always going to be so disgustingly adorable."

Malcolm and JT both laugh as they follow suit, pushing to their feet. Dani rounds the coffee table as soon as they're up, pulling Malcolm into a tight hug that Malcolm returns just as fiercely. When she releases Malcolm, she scoots over to JT, repeating the action.

"You better take care of him," she whispers to JT, not quite quiet enough that Malcolm doesn't hear it from where he's standing.

JT nods his agreement, the stern look on his face making it clear that he's taking her words to heart and has every intention of doing exactly that.

Dani heads back to her desk once she's satisfied that her pack is going to be alright— they do have an active case, after all — leaving Malcolm and JT alone with Gil.

Gil rises slowly from his chair, looking between the two men for a moment before reaching some sort of decision. "JT, take the rest of the week off. Get yourselves settled in, do whatever you need to do so that you're fully focused when you come back."

JT hesitates a moment, unsure where Gil stands on the new dynamic between himself and the kid who is like a son to the Lieutenant, but then Gil is holding out a hand, making it clear that all is well. With a nod of gratitude, JT shakes his hand.

"Would you mind giving me and Bright a minute?" Gil asks when they release one another's hands.

The fact that JT looks to Malcolm for confirmation that he's comfortable before leaving makes Malcolm smile and duck his head to hide the happy flush that settles on his cheeks. The love he feels for the taciturn Alpha keeps taking him by surprise. 

He's never felt this way before.

JT closes the door behind him as he leaves the office, and Malcolm watches through the window as he heads back over to Dani's desk.

"I was gonna ask if you're really okay with all of this, but I don't think I've ever seen you look this content," Gil says, still standing mere feet from where Malcolm is.

Malcolm turns to face him, letting the love he feels radiate from every pore, smiling up at the Alpha in front of him. Gil returns the smile so fully that his eyes crinkle before tugging Malcolm into a tight embrace. Gil's arms still feel like home after all this and Malcolm is wrapped up in his love like a warm blanket.

"Congratulations, kid," Gil murmurs against Malcolm's hair, "I know the circumstances aren't ideal, but you're gonna be an amazing father to that baby."

The tears that blur Malcolm's vision at the words, the lump that catches in his throat, it's such a contrast to all the tears he's shed over the last few months that he finds it hard to believe it's all the same process. 

"Thank you, Gil," he says, voice thick with emotion. He can't express just how much Gil's faith in him truly means. He clings tightly to Gil long enough to blink back the tears before he pulls away and looks up. "Are you ready to be a grampa?"

Gil's face lights up like he's just won the lottery and suddenly Malcolm is pulled back in his arms, hugged tight to Gil's chest, pretending he didn't just feel the drop of moisture that landed on his collar.

The last time Gil held him like this was after a particularly vicious nightmare a little over two months ago, and back then, even Gil's familiar presence and comforting scent couldn't make him believe that anything would ever be okay again.

It's funny, he thinks to himself, holding Gil just as tightly, how drastically things can change in such a short period of time.

\---

THEN 

Malcolm is in and out of consciousness for the first three days of his hospital stay. Only fragments of memories stick with him from that time, with no context to provide any meaning to the flashes that burst in his mind.

When he finally wakes up, _really_ wakes up, he wishes that he hadn't.

Jessica is next to his bed, her head resting on the mattress beside his hip, a deep crease marring the skin between her brows even while fast asleep. Her hand is wrapped around his, warmth seeping into his frozen body. She looks disheveled in a way that Jessica Whitly never does, like she's been in the same clothes for days. Perhaps, he thinks, she has.

It wouldn't be the first time she's kept a bedside vigil for him.

He does his best to keep still and silent, biting down on the sob that tries to claw its way from his chest, ripping and tearing at his lungs as he pushes it down. He doesn't want to wake her, but right now there's nothing in the world he wants more than to curl up into a ball and will himself from existence. His entire body aches, a thousand and one spiking hurts that range from a dull throbbing inside of him to a sharp burn that spans his chest. 

But worse than all of that are the memories that assault his mind, that theatre in his head that he told Dani about all those years ago, playing back scenes of his time with Matthew in high-definition. Every time his eyes slip closed, he experiences the tortures all over again, and he can't seem to escape.

Eventually he falls back asleep, a brief reprieve before the nightmares begin again. 

He screams himself awake not long after, thrashing so hard that he throws himself to the floor as he tries to get away from the terror his mind is subjecting him to. Jessica runs to his side, dropping down to the floor next to him, her panicked voice trying to calm him down and assure him he's safe.

It doesn't help.

In the end, he winds up popping more than thirty of the stitches that are holding his various wounds closed.

After that incident, he's kept restrained for his own safety.

When he's awake, he understands the need for the soft cuffs that hold him in place, carefully buckled over his gauze-wrapped wrists, still raw and healing from the rope burns. When he sleeps, though, his body reacts to the feeling of being trapped as though he's still locked in that room. 

The doctors end up keeping him mildly sedated to protect his healing body from the damage he inflicts upon himself every time he awakens from a nightmare. It traps him in his mind, forever with Matthew, but keeps him groggy enough that he doesn't thrash around as the nightmares play out. 

It takes several days of low-grade sedation for his body to heal enough to assuage some of the doctor's concerns regarding his physical recovery (his mental recovery, they all know, is going to take a hell of a lot longer than just a few days). The restraints stay, but the sedatives are slowly tapered off, allowing Malcolm to finally leave the hellscape of his mind. 

When the last of the sedatives wear off and he blinks himself awake, Malcolm finds Gil next to his bed, seated where Jessica had been all those days ago. 

"Hey there, city boy," Gil says quietly when he notices Malcolm looking over to him. He leans forward in the chair and gently picks up Malcolm's hand, cautious of the IV line that's dripping various fluids into his body. "How are you feeling."

Malcolm doesn't know how to answer that question, so he asks one of his own, instead. 

"How's JT?"

His voice is little more than a raspy whisper and he realizes just how parched he is. Thankfully, Gil seems to recognize it as well and releases his hand to grab a plastic cup from the table beside his bed, bringing the straw right to Malcolm's mouth and cautioning, "Slowly, kid. Small sips."

Malcolm only manages a few sips before he lets his head drop back against the pillow, waiting for news on JT.

"He's doing okay," Gil says, but the way he avoids eye contact by putting the cup back on the table and tidying up the random bits and pieces that surround it makes Malcolm wonder what he's not telling him. "You know JT. Ever the soldier."

It's true. JT is unbreakable.

Which makes Malcolm feel even worse for being so goddamn fragile. For allowing himself to be broken.

He doesn't realize he's crying until he feels the heat of the tears on his cheeks. Until Gil is right next to him, his hand curling without thought around the back of Malcolm's neck as he leans down and asks, "Hey, are you in pain? Should I call the doctor?"

Malcolm shakes his head, a scatter of tears pattering to the surprisingly plush blanket that's covering him. As he soaks in Gil's comfort — Gil's scent has long since registered as family to Malcolm, imparting a feeling of home, of protection, that he's been so desperately craving — he finally looks around the room and takes in his surroundings.

Definitely a private hospital.

Clearly Jessica was involved in his accommodations. He can't even complain, though. The privacy and comfort are beyond welcome right now. Even still, he just wants to leave. To be in the relative safety of his home. To see Sunshine again. To get back to a routine so he can pretend that none of this ever happened.

"JT's wondering if you're up for visitors yet. So is Powell," Gil says quietly, pulling Malcolm from his thoughts. The Alpha still looks concerned, but clearly senses that his presence is helping to soothe Malcolm, and is more than happy to stay exactly where he is.

"No," Malcolm says quickly. He can't face JT yet. 

He's not sure he'll _ever_ be ready to face him.

Gil doesn't push, just sits on the mattress beside Malcolm, keeping the solid weight of his hand on Malcolm's neck as Malcolm practices some of the breathing techniques Gabrielle taught him when he was just a boy. It helps to keep the blinding panic at bay. For now, at least.

"Do you want to talk about it? Not as an official statement," Gil hurries to clarify, "Not yet. Just. As a friend."

Malcolm knows Gil means it, that he would sit there and listen to Malcolm's broken account of their time with Matthew Vaughn, no matter how long it took for him to stumble over the words. But he's not ready to face those demons head on. Not while he's trapped in a hospital room that, despite its almost lavish decor, still smells like disinfectant and feels like death.

"I want to go home," he says, sidestepping Gil's question entirely.

"Kid, you were hurt pretty bad," Gil says, a scowl darkening his features as he thinks of just how Matthew could have inflicted those various hurts on Malcolm. "You need to give yourself some time to heal."

"I can heal just as well at home," he says, feeling like he's had this conversation far too many times in his life. "I can heal _better_ at home. Please, Gil."

It's unfair, he knows, because Gil has always had trouble saying no to Malcolm, that soft spot from when Gil came to his house and set everything in motion over twenty years ago never having faded. It doesn't take long at all before Gil's stern expression crumples and Malcolm knows he'll help Malcolm get out of the hospital as soon as possible. 

Even with Gil on his side, it takes another two days before he's released. Two days of night terrors that leave him screaming and shaking every time his exhausted body attempts to sleep. Two days of exasperated nurses changing out his bloody bandages when he tears his healing wounds back open. Eventually, though it's still very much against his doctor's recommendations, he receives his discharge papers.

His doctor cautions him against leaving, then warns him of what he needs to be on the lookout for when he realizes Malcolm won't be swayed. Malcolm doesn't care. Frankly, he doesn't have the energy to care about much of anything. All he wants is to be able to scream himself raw in the privacy of his own loft.

He discovers that Gil and Jessica have joined forces when Gil comes to drive him home and has his overnight bag sitting in the back seat. Malcolm arches an eyebrow when he sees it and Gil just shrugs.

"Just because you're going home, doesn't mean you'll be there alone," Gil says as he helps lower Malcolm ever so carefully into the passenger seat, grimacing in sympathy as Malcolm whimpers at the movement. "I'll be staying with you the first few days, help to get you settled, then Jess and I will take turns keeping you company."

"It's really not necessary," Malcolm grunts as his body protests being folded to sit in the car.

"Bright," Gil says firmly, crouching down next to Malcolm and helping him with his seatbelt, "this is an argument you're not gonna win, so save your breath."

He's not sure how he feels about Gil and Jessica colluding behind his back. A part of him — the broken part that's still feeling terrified and alone and lost — is grateful to know he won't be alone. His stubborn pride, though, hates the idea of Gil and his mother being there to witness him falling apart. 

Which he does.

As the days go on, as sleep becomes more and more elusive, as his night terrors turn into hallucinations that haunt him during his waking hours, Malcolm breaks down completely. He loses himself in his mind, in memories of what happened, and no matter how hard he tries, he can't seem to find his way back.

The only thing that keeps him from losing himself completely are Gil's updates on JT. Malcolm finds himself hanging onto reality just to make sure that the Alpha is doing okay, that he's settled in at home, with his family, where he belongs.

Days turn to weeks and Malcolm's compounding sleep debt serves to make everything so much worse. The night terrors are bad enough, but at least he has experience dealing with those. The hallucinations that follow him into his waking hours are another thing entirely. 

He overhears Gil and Jess talking in hushed tones in his kitchen one morning when they think he's asleep on the couch (like he ever sleeps anymore), discussing his episodes and what they can possibly do to help him. The defeat in Jessica's voice when she suggests a private and very exclusive retreat that she's discovered which specializes in psychiatric disorders has Malcolm's stomach churning where he lays still and silent.

He knows she doesn't want to send him away, that she just wants him to get better and is feeling helpless right now. He understands exactly what it means to feel helpless. He also knows that, while Gil is currently arguing against committing him, if things don't change soon, he'll come around to the idea.

It's that night that things come to a head.

Gil tags Jessica out for babysitting duty and Malcolm and Gil spend most of the day watching documentaries together. Eventually, after a break for Gil to make dinner — of which Malcolm manages a whopping three bites— Gil suggests a game of chess. Malcolm readily agrees, hoping the need to focus and strategize will trick his brain into forgetting about Matthew for a little while.

It works. At first.

But partway through the game, as he debates between moving his rook or a pawn, Matthew flickers to life beside him, gripping his throat and jabbing the Iki spike into his carotid artery. Malcolm's hands fly to his throat as he throws himself to the floor to get away from the spectre that's grinning down at him with the manic energy that Matthew only ever showed when he was causing them pain. 

Malcolm scrambles to get away, to stop the blood that must be flowing from his throat — an answering wound to Matthew's own fatal injury — and stops only when he has no further to go, curled up in the small space under the stairs.

He's not sure how long it takes to realize he's not bleeding, dying. But eventually he's aware of Gil kneeling in front of him, looking absolutely shattered. Malcolm wants to apologize for worrying the man, but can't seem to form the words around the lump in his throat. He realizes he doesn't need to, though, when Gil slowly, cautiously, maneuvers his way next to Malcolm, squeezing himself in the small space between Malcolm and the credenza. 

"C'mere, kid," Gil chokes out around the tears that start to fall. He blatantly avoids any sudden movements that might spook Malcolm as he wraps an arm around Malcolm's shoulders and tugs him into his warm body, his heat palpable even through the heavy knit of his sweater.

Malcolm sinks into the embrace. He hasn't allowed much physical contact since he woke up, a held hand or Gil's comforting touch on his neck the only things he could handle. But now, being held in Gil's strong arms, letting his scent wash over him, he wonders if maybe he'd been wrong all along. 

Suddenly, he doesn't feel quite so alone.

And for the first time in nearly a month, he sleeps uninterrupted — curled up in Gil's arms beneath the stairs — for just over two hours.

Things start to improve after that. In tiny, incremental steps, Malcolm finds some balance and begins to heal. It's a slow and frustrating journey, but the hallucinations disappear and eventually he's left with only the nightmares and the memories.

He's long ago learned how to cope with both of those.

So for nearly six weeks, he focuses on healing. Avoiding JT and Tally's calls and texts becomes the hardest part of his day, but he's not ready to face what happened between him and JT, and he's not ready to face his best friend after having sex with her husband.

By the time he thinks he might be ready to take that step, to answer that call, it's time for his three month checkup to ensure his wounds are all healing properly. 

Which is when he finds out he's pregnant.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue to wrap things up here!
> 
> This is all fluff and family feels from here on out, because our boys deserve to be happy. It's pretty mpreg heavy at the beginning, though, so if that's not your thing, you can walk away now and know that they live happily ever after.

EPILOGUE 

His hips and lower back have been killing him for days now. With less than a week until his due date, he's not surprised; Tally and his mother both warned him what to expect, and he's done so much research over the past few months that JT threatened to take away his laptop.

Knowing what to expect doesn't make it any less uncomfortable, though.

Which is why, at 6:30 am on a Tuesday morning, Malcolm and Tally are making a slow circle around the block. It doesn't seem to matter if he's laying, sitting, or standing, if he stays completely still or keeps moving, he still aches. But taking short walks throughout the day at least takes his mind off of the discomfort for a little while.

Tally was up anyways, getting ready for work, so she offered to join him when he came out of his room in jogging pants, one of JT's hoodies, and his sneakers. 

They've been living together for nearly four months now, buying a place that's easily large enough to support their unique family dynamic, and Malcolm has never been happier. 

Even if it feels like his hips are being slowly dislocated. 

Tally has been a lifesaver through his pregnancy; talking him through his fears and encouraging him to take care of himself in order to take care of his son. She's been more than just his best friend, she's been his rock and his confidante.

And he's loved being there for her, as well. Spending his time with Tally (who is working part time) and Aaliyah has been the best change he could have made to his life. They center him and show him what it means to be a family. He babysits and provides Tally with companionship that she's sometimes lacking with JT's hectic hours.

Things have been as close to perfect as they could possibly be.

Aside from the ubiquitous hip pain.

"You feeling any better?" Tally asks quietly as they round the corner to the front of their block. Their arms are locked together as they walk — or rather, Tally walks and Malcolm waddles — and she gives the side eye to anyone that walks by and gets too close to Malcolm.

He considers lying for a moment, but decides against it. "Not really."

"It's not gonna be much longer, Mal, I promise," Tally says with a sympathetic smile.

He sure hopes she's right. He's anxious to meet his son.

They're perhaps forty feet from the front door of their building when Malcolm comes to an abrupt stop on the sidewalk, obviously startling Tally as she jerks to a halt beside him.

"You okay?" she asks, dropping her hand to his forearm and giving it a light squeeze, concern written clearly on every line of her face.

He takes a deep breath before he answers, a sudden flutter of nerves sweeping through his belly. "My water just broke," he whispers.

Tally's eyes drop down to where his jogging pants are sopping wet and dripping into his sneakers, her eyes going comically wide as she realizes what this means.

"Holy shit," she returns just as quietly, her eyes darting back to his face, a slow smile beginning to spread over her features. "Okay. Shit. Uh, can you make it to the entrance way and I'll go up and get JT and your bag?"

"Yeah," he says, feeling oddly calm about the whole thing. He's nervous about what's to come, sure, but he's so damn ready to meet his son that it seems to be outweighing the anxiety.

He can tell she's doing her best to keep to his slow pace, but also feels the excitement humming just beneath the surface and can tell just how badly she wants to get upstairs to wake JT. 

The doorman's eyebrows shoot up as he sees them approach, clearly noticing the spreading stain on Malcolm's pants. He hurries to open the door for them, quietly asking, "Mr. Bright, is there anything I can do to help?"

Malcolm offers a small smile and shakes his head. "I'm fine, Clarence. Thank you."

The words have barely left his mouth before Tally is jumping in. "Clarence, can you please keep an eye on him while I go get JT?"

"Of course, Mrs. Tarmel," Clarence hurries to say, taking Malcolm's arm and leading him towards the bench just inside the foyer. 

Tally leans in and plants a quick kiss on his cheek before she damn near sprints to the elevator, pounding on the up button with an impatience that he doesn't think he's ever seen in her. He chuckles as Clarence steadies him while he eases himself down, causing Clarence to follow his gaze to where Tally is rushing onto the elevator car and bouncing as she waits for the doors to close behind her.

"I think she's more excited than I am," Malcolm smiles.

"I doubt that very much, Mr. Bright," Clarence grins back, knowing full well from their conversations the last few months just how much Malcolm wants this baby.

The apartment they ended up choosing is...lavish. But Malcolm and Tally both fell in love with it immediately, and Tally's only concern was the price tag. Malcolm talked her around after a handful of days curled up together on the sofa discussing all the ways that the larger space and building amenities would improve their lives.

JT had been far more difficult to persuade.

Alpha pride made the extravagant cost a hard sell, his innate need to be the provider making it difficult to accept the idea of Malcolm purchasing their new apartment (which is the only way they would _ever_ be able to afford it). 

Tally, though, being the Alpha- and Omega-whisperer that she is, somehow managed to talk JT around. It took a little bit of time and a whole lot of nettlling, but she convinced him that it was the best choice for all five of them, for the family they were about to become. 

And so they moved into their nearly 4,500 square foot penthouse apartment, and haven't looked back since.

"Mr. Bright," Clarence asks, crouching down a respectful distance away from Malcolm, pulling him from his wandering thoughts. "Are you alright, sir? Are you sure I can't get you anything?"

Clarence took to their family immediately, consistently going above and beyond to help them with anything they might need, and Malcolm couldn't be more grateful for his steady presence as a wave of cramping pain passes over his belly. Clarence doesn't even seem to mind when Malcolm grabs hold of his hand and squeezes hard enough that it must be uncomfortable for the older man.

Malcolm does his best to breathe through the contractions like he was taught in his lamaze class, focusing his attention on the feel of the air as it cycles through his lungs. He releases Clarence's hand with a sheepish smile when the cramping finally fades away.

"Sorry," Malcolm says softly.

"It's quite alright, Mr. Bright," Clarence smiles, "I thought my wife was going to break my hand clean off when she had our first."

Malcolm chuckles at the thought, as he drops a hand to the swell of his stomach, rubbing soothing circles over the bulge in an attempt to soothe his son. It's only a moment later that the elevator bell dings and a panicked-looking JT jumps out before the doors even open fully.

Clarence quietly steps back as JT approaches, giving the worried Alpha plenty of space to check on his mate and child, and Malcolm notices the warm smile on the older man's face as he witnesses JT's concern for Malcolm.

"Bright!" JT shouts as he drops to the floor in front of Malcolm, dropping Malcolm's go-bag on the floor next to him. "Are you okay? Is he?" JT's hand falls so gently to Malcolm's stomach that he barely even feels it through the bulk of the hoodie.

"We're fine," Malcolm assures him, laying a hand on top of JT's, "I think our son is finally ready to meet us."

JT calms as soon as he knows that his family is safe, taking a deep breath and preparing himself for what needs to be done. He leans in and plants a kiss on Malcolm's belly then pushes back up to his feet, turning to Clarence.

"Clarence, man, would you mind helping Malcolm outside while I go get the car?" JT asks, shouldering Malcolm's bag once again.

"Of course, Mr. Tarmel," Clarence says easily, moving back to Malcolm's side, both men working together to get Malcolm to his feet.

JT is gone in a blink, and Malcolm wonders briefly just how many traffic laws they're about to break in order to get him to the hospital, but then Clarence is leading him back outside, carefully helping him through the door and out to the curb.

Within seconds, JT's squealing to a stop in front of the building and is halfway out the door before the wheels have even stopped. Malcolm tries to offer him a reassuring smile, though he's unsurprised to find that it doesn't seem to provide much reassurance. So he lets JT ease him into the car, lets him reach around to ensure he's buckled up, safe and sound, because he knows that it will make the anxious Alpha feel slightly more in control of a situation they have little control over.

"Where's Tally and Aaliyah?" Malcolm asks, looking towards the entrance of the building.

"Tally's gonna take Aaliyah to her sister's for the day, then she'll come meet us at the hospital," JT says as his hand moves softly over the swell of Malcolm's belly once more.

Malcolm nods his understanding; as excited as Aaliyah is to meet her brother, it could be hours before he's born and she would be terribly bored waiting at the hospital.

Once he's settled to JT's exacting standards, he gives the Alpha's hand a reassuring squeeze to let him know that everything is going to be fine. He smiles softly as JT chews on his lip for a second before nodding to himself, clearly having decided that Malcolm is as safe as he can be, then quietly closes the door and takes a moment to thank Clarence with a heartfelt handshake. Malcolm is reminded of just why he loves the man so damn much. As JT runs back to the driver's side, Malcolm gives Clarence a small wave, which Clarence immediately returns, and then they're off, driving faster than the law permits on every stretch of road that hasn't been consumed by the growing morning gridlock.

Malcolm has another contraction in the car and grabs the door handle with a white-knuckled death grip that leaves the plastic creaking in protest. JT has a matching grip on the steering wheel and Malcolm notices the way his eyes dart back and forth between Malcolm and the road.

"I'm fine," Malcolm says around the panting breaths he's reduced to as the pain slowly ebbs away. "We're both fine. I promise. Just focus on the road, hmm?"

The rest of the ride flies by, as does the check-in at the hospital, and soon he's in bed sporting a stylish hospital gown, waiting for the contractions to be close enough to move to the delivery room. JT alternates between pacing the floor and sitting in the hard plastic chair next to Malcolm's bed, either holding Malcolm's hand or setting his palm on Malcolm's belly, feeling their son move around as he gets ready to come into the world.

Their son who, they soon discover, has inherited Malcolm's impatience. Less than two hours after checking in, Malcolm has his son laying on his chest, warm and real and oh so tiny.

He's perfect.

And Malcolm falls head over heels in love with him the moment the nurse places him, mewling and squirming, in his arms.

He looks to JT with watery eyes and sees the answering tears in his mate's eyes, and suddenly everything they went through at the hands of Matthew Vaughn seems like a minor stumbling block on their journey to get here.

"Do you want to hold your son?" Malcolm asks, voice hoarse and exhausted but undeniably happy.

JT looks adorably nervous and Malcolm remembers Tally's advice to get JT to hold the baby as soon as possible or he'd keep putting it off, afraid he'd hurt the tiny little being. So Malcolm reaches out a hand, waiting patiently for JT to take hold before he tugs him forward, pressed up against the hospital bed. Malcolm doesn't have the strength to lift the little guy all the way up to JT, but that just seems to spur JT into action, as he scoops up his son into his muscular arms, and soon the anxiety that was creasing his face is transformed into a reverence that steals Malcolm's breath away.

"He's beautiful," JT whispers, completely in awe of the life they've created.

Malcolm doesn't think he's ever been happier than in this moment.

Tally comes in as soon as Malcolm and baby are cleaned up and settled back in their room, a beaming smile on her face as she sees JT halfway on the bed with Malcolm, holding a finger out to the little bundle in Malcolm's arms. All she can see of the baby from the doorway is his tiny little fist, but Malcolm can tell by the look on her face that she's already in love with him, too.

"Hey there, daddies," she says quietly as she tiptoes to the bed beside JT. She plants a quick kiss on the side of JT's head and then leans in to place one on Malcolm's forehead as well. "How's everyone feeling?"

"Tired," Malcolm says around a yawn, "but thrilled."

"I'll bet," Tally says knowingly, reaching down to run the side of her thumb over the baby's forehead. "It's a lot of work to create something so perfect."

A smile splits Malcolm's face and he leans in to kiss the top of his son's head, inhaling the intoxicating new baby scent that seems to radiate from him.

"Have you landed on a name yet?" Tally smirks, clearly thinking back to the heated discussions over the last few weeks as Malcolm and JT tried to whittle down the list of names.

"Ethan," Malcolm says quietly, staring down at his son.

 _His son_.

He's still having trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that he's a father.

"That's perfect," Tally smiles at the baby. "Hello, Ethan. We're all very excited to meet you."

Ethan coos back at her and Malcolm feels his heart melt at just how much he loves the family they've created for themselves. He's so thankful that things turned out the way they did, that Ethan is going to grow up in a household that is filled to bursting with love. He never would have guessed that his life would lead him here, but he wouldn't change it for the world.

"Babe, you look exhausted," JT says, leaning in to kiss Malcolm softly to take the sting from the words. "Why don't you sleep a little? Tally and I will make sure Ethan is snuggled the entire time, I promise."

They all chuckle, but JT probably doesn't realize just how much that eases Malcolm's mind. He doesn't want Ethan to ever feel like he's alone in this world.

"Yeah," Malcolm stiffles another yawn and leans in to kiss Ethan one more time before handing him off to JT, knowing that the Alpha would burn the world down before ever letting anything happen to their son. "That's a great idea. Thanks."

JT gets up from his perch on the bed, gently bouncing the little bundle that looks so damn small in his massive arms, and Malcolm can't help but smile at the sight. He's sure he'll never tire of watching the two most important men in his life like that.

"You did good, Mal," Tally says quietly, bending down to give him a great big hug that Malcolm relaxes into immediately. 

Malcolm naps for a while, waking to the hushed sounds of Jessica and Ainsley fawning over Ethan, and opening his eyes just in time to see Ainsley pull a stunned JT into a warm embrace.

Ainsley took to JT as soon as she saw the way Malcolm and JT looked at each other, the way JT always seemed to have a protective hand on Malcolm's back or shoulder or belly. It didn't take any explanation for her to understand that Malcolm was in love, and that their unconventional arrangement was what he truly wanted.

Jessica, on the other hand…

Jessica needed considerably longer to make the mental switch from thinking of JT as 'the man who raped my son' to 'my future son-in-law', but she managed to get there eventually. Malcolm had been very clear with her about the circumstances of Ethan's conception, but she needed time, and JT was more than willing to give it to her.

It wasn't until Malcolm had a 3D ultrasound when he was just over six months pregnant that Jessica truly started to thaw. Seeing the baby — her grandchild — certainly helped to smooth things over between her and JT.

Now, looking at the way Jessica is cradling Ethan in her arms, seeing the softness on her face as she speaks to JT and Tally, he has no doubt that there will ever be anything but love going forward.

"Hey, Bro," Ainsley says as she notices Malcolm looking over at the group of them huddled around the baby. "Apparently you make cute babies. Who would've guessed?" The teasing smile on her face turns soft as she makes her way over and leans in for a hug, whispering, "Congratulations, Malcolm," in his ear before she pulls back. 

"Thanks, Ains," he says, pleased to have his mother and sister around for this joyful time. With all the darkness they've experienced in their lives, he's glad to share a little bit of light with them.

"Malcolm, darling," Jessica says, keeping her voice low and quiet so as to not disturb the sleeping baby in her arms. "He's perfect." She leans in to plant a kiss on his cheek, and Malcolm has no doubt that there's a red lip-shaped mark left behind.

He's too happy to care.

Tally and JT make a coffee run to the shop down the street to give the Whitly ladies some time alone with the Bright boys, and Jessica and Ainsley settle on either side of Malcolm, all three of them staring down at the newest member of their family like he's the best thing that's ever happened to them.

Perhaps he is.

His mother and sister stay for about an hour, sticking around to chat with JT and Tally when they get back with coffees, but then they graciously leave the proud parents alone with their beautiful baby boy for some bonding time.

Predictably, Malcolm isn't thrilled about spending the night in the hospital, but since it's where his son is, it's where he intends to be as well. Fortunately, shortly after lunch the following day he has his discharge papers and is ready to go, anxious to get home and begin their new life as a family.

He's packing up his bag when he hears the patter of little feet racing towards his room and turns to face the door with a smile as Aaliyah flies through the doorway. He'd love to pick her up and swing her around, but he's honestly quite sore and tender still and doesn't have it in him. He settles for carding a hand through her hair as she latches herself to his leg, her peal of laughter ringing through the room.

"Baby girl, be gentle!" Tally admonishes, coming in just behind the little whirlwind of energy that's wearily loosening her grip at the warning.

Malcolm sits on the bed between his bag and the baby carrier — where Ethan is nestled in the softest of blankets, fast asleep — and bends down to pick Aaliyah up, sure to use the muscles in his arms more than the overworked muscles in his abdomen as he settles her gently on his lap.

"I'm fine, sweetie, don't you worry," he assures her with a kiss to the tip of her nose, but her gaze is drawn immediately to Ethan, who looks an awful lot like one of her favourite dolls. "Would you like to meet your brother?"

She looks at Malcolm with wide eyes and nods slowly, looking a little unsure about everything that's happened and what it all means. Malcolm pulls his blankets apart so she can get a better look and shuffles her forward so she can reach in.

"This is Ethan," Malcolm says quietly, "he was in my tummy for a while, but now he gets to come home with us."

Aaliyah looks at Malcolm like he's pulling her leg, but his honest expression just leaves her baffled as she looks down at his belly, which is so much smaller than the last time he saw her, and the sleeping baby in the carrier.

"I bet you have lots of questions," Malcolm says, giving her a squeeze, and waiting for her small nod, "And you can ask all the questions you want, okay? And I'll try my best to answer them."

They wait a few minutes while she works up the nerve to reach out and touch him, poking his hand and pulling her fingers back, waiting for a response and looking between Malcolm and Tally when he doesn't move.

"He's gonna sleep a lot, baby," Tally assures her, picking her up from Malcolm's lap and setting her on her hip. "How about we take him home and see if he wakes up when we get there?"

"Okay," she agrees readily, still eyeing Ethan like she's expecting him to do something. Anything.

"JT has the car waiting out front for us," Tally says to Malcolm as she slings his bag over her shoulder. It's not long before they're all loaded in the car, suddenly grateful for the roomy SUV that JT traded his car in for a few months back. Three adults and two car seats take up a lot of space.

They make a quick stop to show the newest member of their family to Clarence and then they're walking into their apartment, more than ready to begin this newest chapter of their lives together. 

Aaliyah gravitates towards Ethan immediately, her interest piqued when he finally wakes up and cries out to be held. Malcolm sits her on his lap and then has JT place Ethan in their cradled arms, making sure he has a sturdy hold on them both. He can already tell that Aaliyah is going to be fiercely protective of her little brother, and he drops a kiss to her head, thankful that his son will have such an amazing sister. He knows the dynamic will be different, but he's pleased that Ethan and Aaliyah can be there for one another in the same way he and Ainsley were.

The first day home passes like molasses, and Malcolm hopes that time never speeds up again. JT, Malcolm, and Ethan share an afternoon nap and the feeling of having his son in front of him and his mate curled up behind him has Malcolm slipping into the sweetest of sleeps.

Since moving in with Tally and JT, Malcolm's nightmares have eased exponentially. He still wakes up screaming now and then (and had his and JT's new room well soundproofed so that the Tarmels aren't awoken by his occasional night terror) but the more time he spends with his new family, the less severe they become. Even the ghosts of his past began haunting him less. Nightmares about his father and the Girl in the Box have become nearly non-existent. Nightmares of his time with John Watkins have disappeared altogether.

He feels healthier than he ever has.

And so he wakes, well rested, to find JT leaning back in the chair by the window, the sun streaming through the floor to ceiling plates of glass. He's clad in just his pyjama pants and has Ethan sprawled on his chest in nothing but his diaper, both of his boys looking perfectly content and absolutely beautiful. JT's hand is splayed gently over Ethan's back, damn near as big as the baby himself, his thumb tracing absently over the skin on Ethan's shoulder as he speaks to their son in low tones that Malcolm can just barely make out.

"...promise to always keep you safe. You and your daddy. And I'm gonna love you no matter what, okay? Even if you take after your daddy with that weird mind-reading thing he does. So you never have to hide yourself from me."

A happiness that he's not sure he's ever felt washes through Malcolm's entire being as he watches JT talk to their son, knowing that his son is _never_ going to face the same traumas that Malcolm himself did. Knowing that Ethan is going to grow up with two daddies that love him more than anything in the world. 

"He's lucky to have you," Malcolm says quietly, drawing a surprised look from JT, who clearly didn't realize he was awake.

"I think we're lucky to have him," JT says simply, and Ethan sucks in a breath and squirms on JT's chest as the vibration of the words passes through him. "Shh. You're okay," JT whispers to Ethan, bringing his lips down to the dark mop of hair as Ethan settles back down against him.

Malcolm can't disagree. He feels so blessed he's not even sure what to do with himself.

Before he can answer, though, his phone begins to vibrate on the nightstand and he reaches over to grab it before the buzzing wakes their little man.

"Hey, Gil," Malcolm says quietly around the smile that pulls at his lips. 

"Hey there, city boy," Gil responds and Malcolm can hear the answering smile in his words. "I was wondering if you're up to some company yet?"

When JT called Gil and Dani to tell them that Malcolm had the baby, they both said they'd come visit once they got home, leaving them time to adjust to the life changing experience while they were in the hospital. Malcolm is not at all surprised to hear from Gil so soon after getting home. Ethan is his grandchild in all but blood, and he knows the Alpha is anxious to meet him.

"Of course," Malcolm says, sitting up and throwing his legs over the side of the bed. "We just woke up from a nap and would love to see you."

"Glad to hear it, kid," Gil chuckles, "because Powell and I are pulling up in front of your building right now."

Malcolm can't help the answering chuckle that bubbles from his chest. "I'll buzz you in. See you in a minute."

He hangs up the phone and grabs a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie to change into, not quite ready to attempt any of the dress clothes he purchased throughout his pregnancy. He runs a hand through his hair at the mirror and then walks over to JT, gently scooping up his son.

"Gil and Dani are here," he says over his shoulder as he lays Ethan on the bed and grabs a onesie and receiving blanket to swaddle him in. By the time he has Ethan all wrapped up, JT is fully dressed and comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around Malcolm's waist and nuzzling at his neck. "Not that I'm complaining," he grins and lets his eyes drift closed, "but what's this for?"

JT licks and nips along Malcolm's neck — where the bonding bite will be, soon — before he answers. "You're amazing, you know that? I love you."

"I love you, too," he says, shifting ever so slightly in JT's embrace, enough that he can draw his lips to his own.

As much as Malcolm would love to stay in JT's arms all day, they have company coming, so Malcolm slips from JT's embrace with one last kiss and picks up Ethan, resting him in the crook of his arm as they make their way to the living room. He settles himself on the sofa while JT heads to the front door to let them in.

He loses himself in staring at the flawless little human in his arms. His skin is closer in tone to JT's than it is to Malcolm's, a warm mocha that Malcolm already adores, thinking just how handsome he's going to be as he grows up. He hopes he's also inherited JT's laid-back attitude, as well. And perhaps his height.

He's pulled from his musings as JT leads Dani and Gil in, and Malcolm thinks he's never seen Gil look quite so tender as he does when he catches sight of Ethan in Malcolm's arms. Malcolm pushes to his feet and sinks into the very cautious hug Gil wraps him up in, mindful of the baby between them.

"Hey, kid. You look great," Gil says as he pulls back, hands grasping Malcolm's shoulders as he takes him and Ethan in. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm good, thanks. A little sore, but I'm sure it will pass soon. I'm just happy to have this little guy home," Malcolm nods down to Ethan. Then, lowering his voice, he says to Ethan, "Hey, buddy. Do you wanna meet your grampa?"

Gil pulls him in for one more quick hug before taking the baby from Malcolm's arms and stepping to the side, letting Dani move in and pull Malcolm into a tight hug. 

"Congratulations, Bright," Dani says before looking over to where Gil is sitting down on the sofa with Ethan cradled in the crook of his arm. "He's beautiful."

"Right?" Malcolm says, not even pretending to think otherwise, pulling a laugh from all of them.

"Where's Tally and Aaliyah?" Dani asks as she sits next to Gil and looks down at Ethan, her usually stern expression melting away and becoming unbearably soft.

Malcolm looks to JT, wondering the same thing. It's unusual to not hear Aaliyah's melodic laugh ringing through the apartment. It surprises him how used to the sound he's become over the last few months.

"Tally took Aaliyah for a haircut and ice cream," JT says, holding up his phone to indicate the text that Tally sent when they'd been napping. "She should be back in a little while."

Malcolm nods, knowing that Tally intends to spend a little extra time with Aaliyah over the next few weeks, making sure she doesn't feel like she's being ignored or replaced by Ethan. JT and Malcolm both intend on having a special day out with her as well.

"So, how's fatherhood treating you both so far?" Dani asks as Malcolm and JT settle on the sofa across from Gil and Dani. 

JT's hand lands on Malcolm's thigh as soon as they're settled, and Malcolm is more pleased than he'd care to admit that JT's tactile affections haven't lessened now that Malcolm is no longer carrying his offspring. He's come to rely on JT's touch over the last six months or so and hates the idea of losing it.

"So far, so good," Malcolm says, smiling at JT at the reminder that they're fathers. Together. 

Dani chats with JT and Malcolm about their time in the hospital and the upcoming sleep loss that they're all expecting, but when Malcolm looks to Gil, he notices the man is absolutely absorbed in Ethan. Malcolm suspects that Gil is going to be visiting an awful lot going forward.

That's just fine by Malcolm.

He's been spending more time than usual with Gil lately, anyways. The Alpha is so damn excited about being a grampa that he'd been checking in on Malcolm with increasing frequency throughout the course of his pregnancy. It sort of feels like when Malcolm was a kid all over again, spending all that time with Gil. He hadn't realized how much he missed Gil's steadying presence in his life, but now that he has him back, Malcolm doesn't want to let things drift again.

Besides, Ethan is going to need his grampa.

After about an hour of comfortable conversation and Gil refusing to relinquish his hold on Ethan, Tally and Aaliyah arrive home. All of them fuss over Aaliyah's new haircut, which she's obviously quite pleased with, and Aaliyah beelines to Dani, crawling on her lap and looking over at Ethan once again. Tally, meanwhile, settles next to JT, the Alpha wrapping an arm around her shoulders as they share a quick kiss.

"How do you like being a big sister?" Dani asks, pulling the little girl close with a smile.

"He sleeps a lot," Aaliyah crosses her arms over her chest and sighs, but the proud smile on her face says she likes being a big sister an awful lot. 

"Just for now," Gil assures her, "before you know it, he'll be wide awake and wanting to play with you."

Aaliyah grins at that and leans over to plant a smacking kiss on Ethan's forehead, causing Ethan to groggily open his eyes and then yawn widely.

Aaliyah sucks in a surprised breath and asks, "He can play now?"

Malcolm chuckles at just how literally the little girl takes things, realizing he'll have to keep that in mind when making promises about her little brother.

"Not yet, sweetheart," Gil says, apologetically. "He's still got a while before he's big enough to play."

Aliyah pouts but doesn’t seem to mind too much, reaching out to take hold of Ethan's hand as he pushes it from his blanket. JT pulls out his phone and snaps a few pictures of the adorable tableau.

"Baby girl, why don't you go draw that picture we talked about for Ethan," Tally suggests after some time. "You can go get started and I'll be there in just a minute, okay?"

Aaliyah seems to think on that for a moment, staring at Ethan with a contemplative look, then quietly states, "I'm not a baby."

Tally doesn't miss a beat as she leans forward and says, "You'll always be my baby."

It seems to be what Aaliyah was waiting to hear and she shimmies off of Dani's lap and runs towards the playroom, her footsteps pattering down the hall as she goes.

"Is she doing okay with not being an only child anymore?" Gil asks, running a finger down the bridge of Ethan's nose, making his eyes flutter shut once again.

"So far, so good," JT says, proud of how his daughter is adjusting to all the changes in her life recently. "I think she's already pretty attached to the little guy. She's pretty damn happy about Bright, the baby, the new house—"

"Language," Tally and Malcolm both warn, Tally punctuating the caution with a nudge of her elbow in JT's ribs.

"Sorry, hon," JT plants an apologetic kiss on Tally's temple before turning to Malcolm with a smirk and repeating the gesture, adding "Sorry, babe."

Dani raises an eyebrow and shakes her head while Gil just smiles and turns his attention back to Ethan. The new relationship between Malcolm and the Tarmels took a little bit of time to adjust to for everyone, but Gil and Dani both noticed how quickly both men began to heal when they started seeing one another, and that was enough for both of them to get on board with their relationship (though Malcolm is quite sure that Gil had a heart-to-heart with Tally at some point near the beginning, making sure she was truly amenable to this new life with JT and Malcolm. He tries not to think about how that conversation must have played out).

"So…" Dani says, trailing off and obviously hoping Malcolm or JT will save her from asking what's obviously on her mind.

"Powell," Gil warns with a look that screams 'mind your own business.'

"It's fine, Gil." Malcolm's lips quirk up at Gil's slightly old-fashioned views on discussing bonding so openly. The common opinion these days seems to be that, while it's a deeply personal experience, it's not something that needs to be hidden away anymore. "We're going to bond soon, but haven't actually discussed when."

They'd been holding off until the baby was born. While complications bonding while one partner is pregnant are rare, they're not entirely unheard of, and Malcolm and JT both decided it would be best to wait until after Ethan was delivered. With just getting home from the hospital, though, they haven't had a chance to really discuss if they want to do it right away.

Malcolm can't think of a single thing he wants more.

"I'm hoping tonight," JT says, surprising Malcolm, who turns to look at his Alpha with raised eyebrows. JT's gaze shifts from Dani to Malcolm as he softly adds, "We've had to wait six months. I don't want to wait another night."

Malcolm's heart flutters wildly in his chest at the declaration, knowing JT feels the same urgency to cement their relationship that Malcolm himself has been feeling since they first came together all those months ago.

Gil clears his throat and mumbles something about having an early day tomorrow, keeping Malcolm from losing himself entirely in the depths of JT's gaze. He tears his eyes from JT and feels the flush sweep over his cheeks as he looks to Gil, who is carefully pushing himself to his feet, keeping a tender hold on Ethan as he moves.

"Gil, you don't need to leave," Malcolm assures him.

"It's fine, kid," Gil smiles, "Powell and I really do have a case to work. It's gonna be a hectic few days."

Dani follows his lead and gets to her feet as well, a quick round of hugs exchanged amongst the five adults before Gil and Dani stop at the playroom to say goodbye to Aaliyah and then head to the front door.

"Congratulations to you both," Gil says before finally handing off the baby to Malcolm.

"And good luck with the bonding," Dani adds with a wink before the door closes behind them, leaving Malcolm, JT, Tally, and Ethan alone in the spacious foyer.

Tally makes grabby hands for the baby and Malcolm passes him over with a smile, knowing he'll need to feed and change him soon and he's looking forward to the time to cuddle and connect.

The evening passes peacefully, a shared meal around the table followed by family snuggles and a Disney movie in the living room until Aaliyah falls asleep curled up on JT's lap and he carries her to her bedroom. When he comes back, Malcolm is just finishing up feeding Ethan and getting him ready to go to bed.

"Alright," Tally says as she pushes to her feet and turns off the TV. "How about I take Ethan for now so you two can finally go bond? I'll have him sleep in the bassinet beside the bed so JT can come and pick him up whenever you're ready to have him back."

The fact that Tally knows how badly Malcolm wants Ethan next to him when they go to sleep isn't really a surprise, but he's reminded how fortunate he is to have her in his life. The fact that she's willing to watch his son while he bonds with her husband reminds him of just how amazing she truly is.

"You're sure about this?" Malcolm asks, knowing that Tally will understand that he's not talking about her offer to watch Ethan for a couple of hours. Bonding is permanent. Once he and JT do this, there's no going back. He needs to know that she's not having any second thoughts.

Tally drops down to the sofa beside him, while JT perches on the arm of a nearby chair. He can tell by the look on the Alpha's face that he's interested in the answer as well.

"Malcolm, have you ever known me to hold back on saying what I think?" Tally says with a smile, linking her arm with his in a way that's become achingly familiar over the last few years. "We're already a family. The two of you deepening your bond is going to be the best thing for all of us."

She kisses him on the cheek and stands up, waiting for Malcolm to pass over Ethan. Malcolm gets up as well, pressing a kiss to his son's forehead before handing him over with a grateful smile.

Tally pauses to peck JT on the lips and then she's heading down the hall to her bedroom, leaving Malcolm and JT alone and ready to take the next step in their relationship. It's crazy to Malcolm just how much his life has changed in the last year, that he's actually about to bond with someone. He'd honestly never believed it would happen for him, and now here he is with the man he loves, about to make things official.

He bites his lip and looks up shyly, meeting his Alpha's gaze and seeing an unbridled _want_ in his eyes. It sets the butterflies loose in his stomach all over again to know JT wants him as much as he wants JT.

"Are you ready for this?" Malcolm asks quietly. He already knows the answer though.

"More than ready, babe," JT says, reaching out a hand to take hold of Malcolm's and tugging him towards their bedroom as he says, "I want the world to know you're mine. I want us to be together in every way possible." As they walk into the bedroom and JT shuts the door behind them, he looks Malcolm square in the eye and adds, "I want this to be forever."

"I want that, too." Malcolm's words are barely more than a hushed breath but he means it with every ounce of his being. He wants what they've created for themselves to last forever.

He wants to belong to JT. 

JT leads him towards the bed and gently pulls Malcolm's shirt and pants off, baring him for his Alpha.

It took a few months before Malcolm stopped feeling so uncomfortable with JT seeing him naked, bearing witness to his scars, but the way JT practically worshipped his body (specifically his belly as it swelled with their child) slowly eased Malcolm's self-consciousness. He still despises the scars and the memories they hold, but JT has been patient and firm in his insistence that Malcolm is perfect and beautiful and everything he could ever ask for.

He's learning to believe him.

So even though he's never felt less sexy than he does right now — still carrying the baby weight, feeling somehow stretched out and saggy at the same time, and, of course, sporting the various scars of their time with Matthew — he doesn't try to hide himself.

Instead, he stands tall as JT shucks his own clothes and crawls on the bed, seating himself propped up against the headboard before reaching out for Malcolm and pulling him into his lap so Malcolm is straddling his thighs.

They won't be having sex tonight, or for a while, really. Malcolm's doctor recommended four to six weeks, but stressed the importance of listening to his body. But they both know that bonding is a sensual experience and want to be as connected as they can be while they perform the act.

So Malcolm settles on JT's lap and loops his arms around JT's neck pressing their bodies together as their lips instinctively find one another's. Feeling JT pressed up against him like this, skin to skin, with the Alpha's arms wrapped possessively around his back, just confirms for Malcolm that this is right. That they're meant to be together. 

"I love you," Malcolm breathes against JT's lips, unable to stop the words from tumbling out. He feels the pull of JT's lips into a small smile before the Alpha — _his_ Alpha — answers back.

"I love you, too, Bright."

There's no rush, so they take their time, kissing and letting their hands wander, until Malcolm is rocking his hips in tiny circles, their growing erections rubbing against one another, and Malcolm is shocked that he's actually feeling pretty damn horny. It's sure as hell been the last thing on his mind the last few weeks, but now...

JT's pheromones are affecting him more than he would have expected. 

The sounds Malcolm is making are needy and lewd and he doesn't even care. He just wants to get off with JT.

"Like this?" JT says, pulling back enough to spit on his hand and slip it between them, wrapping a firm grip around both of their cocks, moving up and down with even strokes that suck the air from Malcolm's lungs.

"Yes. Fuck," Malcolm pants, shallow thrusts causing their cocks to rub together even as JT works them both, lips latching onto Malcolm's neck to suck and nip the skin around the bonding gland. "JT. Please," Malcolm cries after only a moment, feeling more desperate than he ever has before. He needs more.

He needs JT's teeth.

With a whispered, "I fucking love you so much," JT bites down over the gland at the juncture of Malcolm's neck, breaking the skin and snapping the bond into place.

It's like a current that shoots through every nerve in his body. Malcolm's never been one to put much stock in out of body experiences, but just for a moment, that's exactly what he feels; like he and JT have left their bodies behind and joined together as souls, forever linked and unbreakable.

When he sinks back into himself, he comes so hard it borders on painful, spurting rope after rope of creamy white with enough force to hit his chin. The pleasure only seems to amplify when JT clenches his teeth on Malcolm's neck as he reaches his own orgasm, spurting hard between them just as Malcolm is coming down, and suddenly Malcolm's coming again, too. His nails dig into JT's back as his entire body goes rigid, shooting every last drop between the two of them.

They're both gasping for breath by the time JT unclamps his jaw from Malcolm's neck. Malcolm crashes their lips together, heedless of the blood that's coating JT's lips, and it doesn't even matter that it's less of a kiss and more just panting into one another's mouths.

It doesn't matter because they're bonded now.

Now and forever.

They hold each other close while they come down, and Malcolm focuses on his body, on how he feels. There's a warmth inside of him like he's never felt before, a sort of peaceful tranquility that seems to have infused every atom of his being and still somehow runs even deeper.

He's not sure if they stay like that for minutes or hours, but it feels like a blissful eternity and he's quite content to remain there forever. Eventually, though, JT's hands begin roaming up and down his back, going as far down as cupping his ass before moving back up.

"Keep those filthy hands above the waist, mister," Malcolm grins into JT's neck and JT gives his ass cheeks a light squeeze before settling them on Malcolm's lower back with a chuckle. "Hey, you laugh, but you got me pregnant with just your precum the first time. I want a litter with you, but not quite this soon."

JT's booming laugh fills the room and vibrates through Malcolm's body where they're pressed together, making Malcolm smile and curl in even closer. It's only as Malcolm's eyelids become heavy and he feels himself drifting off that he finally pulls back, not ready to sleep just yet.

"We should get cleaned up and go grab Ethan," Malcolm says at JT's arched eyebrow.

"Sounds good to me," JT says but leans in and plants a tender kiss to Malcolm's lips. "You know how much I love you, right?"

The funny thing is, he does. He's _known_ for months. But _feeling_ it through the bond has wiped out any trace of doubt that his insecurities occasionally whispered in the back of his mind. 

"I do."

JT smiles at the word choice and Malcolm smiles right back, knowing that they'll be saying those words in front of family and friends soon enough. They know that the ceremony will be beyond lavish if Jessica has any say in it (which she will), but JT, Tally, and Malcolm all agreed that it doesn't really matter as long as all five members of their family are there to celebrate the day.

Malcolm couldn't ask for anything more.

For tonight though, Malcolm and JT reluctantly climb from bed and take a leisurely shower together. JT gently soaps up every inch of Malcolm's body and follows the rinsing water with soft kisses that make Malcolm's heart dance in his chest. Before long, they're dried off and in fresh pyjamas and Malcolm is changing their sheets while JT goes and grabs Ethan from his other bedroom.

He's just tossing the last pillow on the bed when JT comes back in, and if Malcolm thought he couldn't love the man any more than he did as they bonded, he realizes how wrong he was when he sees the Alpha tenderly cradling their son. 

His heart absolutely melts.

"Tally said he hasn't made a peep all night," JT says, eyes locked on the tiny baby in his arms, completely oblivious to Malcolm's overwhelming feelings of love as he stands there and tries to blink back the tears of joy that are threatening to spill over. "She also says if I don't cuddle you all night she'll kick my ass because you're probably feeling pretty emotional after bonding and—"

JT freezes when he finally looks up and sees the tear tracks on Malcolm's cheeks, immediately realizing that Tally, as always, is right. He smiles softly and takes the few steps to Malcolm to pull him in for a hug, both of them being extra careful not to disturb their sleeping son.

"C'mere," JT says quietly, leading Malcolm to the bed. He gets them settled so that JT is spooning Malcolm, his broad chest pressed to Malcolm's back and an arm slung over his belly, with Ethan resting in front of Malcolm, perfectly swaddled and peacefully asleep.

"He needs to sleep in the bassinet," Malcolm says, but he's honestly so damn happy right now that he's reluctant to change a thing.

"I'll put him in once you're asleep," JT promises, running his nose along Malcolm's neck, breathing him in. Somehow JT seems to know _exactly_ what he needs, and Malcolm snuggles back against him, thankful for such a strong and caring Alpha, but then JT surprises him as he quietly says "Thank you, Bright."

"For what?" Malcolm asks, turning his head to look at JT over his shoulder.

"For being you. For loving me. For making him," JT says, nodding towards Ethan and sliding his hand to rest flat on Malcolm's stomach, Ethan's home for the last nine months.

Malcolm isn't even sure how to answer that. So he merely kisses the man he intends on spending the rest of his life with before settling back down on the bed, incomparably happy between his Alpha and his son.

And so they lay there, together as a family, until Malcolm drifts off to sleep, knowing that JT will get Ethan settled for the night (or for however long it takes until he needs to be fed again) before crawling back in bed with him. And tomorrow will begin the first day of the rest of their lives.

Malcolm can hardly wait.


End file.
